


The Christmas Miraculous

by Mommadon



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adorable, Aged-Up Character(s), Cheesy Enough For Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug), Christmas Fluff, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Heartwarming, Identity Reveal, Light Angst, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Pre-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mommadon/pseuds/Mommadon
Summary: Adrien's trying to build a new life for himself in New York, but after an unexpected break-up with his girlfriend, he returns home to Paris for some soul-searching.  What he finds may surprise him.A pure, 100% fluff, cheesy Christmas movie style fanfic for your guilty pleasure enjoyment.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 362
Kudos: 336





	1. Central Park

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, dear readers! I can't stay away from writing, not even during the busiest time of the year. This story is going to be pure fluff (after the very light angst in the first chapter and maybe a smidgen of plot later on), and is supposed to be sweet as cheesecake. It's fashioned after all our favorite guilty-pleasure Christmas movies, so please keep that in mind. I hope you all have a Miraculous Christmas and enjoy the show!
> 
> Dedicated to my kid sister, Scoobers.

Adrien Agreste’s fingers tightened around the velvet box in his pocket. His palms were sweating, and his feet were freezing. The sensation was, honestly, uncomfortable and distracting. He never envisioned that he would be thinking about his sweaty palms and frozen toes moments before proposing. He’d always thought that he’d propose on the Pont Des Arts in Paris, maybe having just enjoyed some Andre’s sweetheart’s ice cream, while the Seine rushed under their feet. But, as Nathalie Sanceour had reminded him a few days earlier, he’d been dating Jacqueline for nearly two years. She was beautiful, poised, smart, funny, and he was genuinely happy with her. He loved her. Truly. So much of his life was different here; why shouldn’t the way he proposed be different as well?

Jacqueline was telling him all about her latest photo shoot. He was barely listening. He’d experienced most of it before, but never connected with modeling the way Jacqueline did. It wasn’t his world like it was hers. But he wanted to be the best boyfriend he could be, so he thought quietly while she went on and on. “Thank goodness Val was there, because Percy was getting _awfully_ close. You know how he can be… all hands and no heart? Well, he was certainly handsy! I kept telling him that I have a boyfriend, a handsome rich strong brilliant boyfriend—“ she squeezed Adrien’s bicep and he realized she was talking about him, “—and he’d better back off or you’d come and kick his butt…”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, while rubbing his thumb over the velvet box containing his mother’s wedding ring. Adrien looked up. Their breath hung in the air like a halo around their heads. It was frosty for being late November, but that was to be expected in New York City. He stopped walking and ran his fingers through his hair. “Jacqueline,” he said suddenly. Her Louboutins clicked as she halted and turned to look at him, “do you love me?”

Her long false eyelashes fluttered as she blinked at him. He winced as they reminded him of butterfly wings and the life of agony he left behind in Paris. Swallowing hard, Adrien braced for her answer. “Adrien, what are you asking? You know I love you.”

He nodded, the knot of dread in his stomach unclenching slowly. “So I _am_ just paranoid,” he breathed. Jacqueline’s ruby lips pursed, and a little line of worry pinched between her eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?” She stepped forward and slipped her hands past his elbows and around his waist.

“I just… for the last few months, I’ve felt like something was off between us. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Off? I’m sorry if I made you feel that way—”

“It’s nothing you did,” he rushed to respond as she rubbed his back absentmindedly. Her golden hair tickled his nose. “I just… like I said, I don’t know how to explain it.”

She sighed and squeezed him, “You’re just nervous about meeting my parents for Christmas.”

He chewed his lower lip. That _wasn’t_ the case. The truth was, every now and then, Jacqueline had mentioned how wealthy he was. She’d spent thousands of his dollars redecorating his perfectly fine apartment. She insisted on eating at New York’s finest restaurants, even when he was craving something simpler. She loved the attention and spotlight. Adrien loved her, her cute button nose and her poise, but sometimes he wished she would be okay with spontaneity and corny jokes and curling up by a fire and talking the night away. He took a deep breath as he looked into her eyes, stomped his frozen feet twice, and made his decision. No more pining after what Jacqueline was not—it was time to leave his life in Paris, all his expectations, all the memories, and all the regrets behind him, once and for all. It was time to accept her, and, by extension, his life in New York, as his reality now. He would be happy with her, and that was that. He smiled down at her and started, “I’m not nervous about meeting your parents. I love you, you’re perfect, and so must be the people who raised you.”

She blushed lightly. “I’m so glad. I’m excited to introduce you. They’re going to _love_ you! I mean, how could they not? How could they not love a man so well connected, famous, and rich? And with a heart of gold!”

His breath caught in his chest. The words he’d planned next escaped him. His lip tucked under his teeth and he hesitated. “Jacqueline,” he whispered, trying to remember his well-rehearsed speech, “I have something I need to ask you.” She blinked in surprise, her eyes lighting up and her mouth pulling to a perfect ‘o.’ “I was going to wait until after Christmas to do this, but I can’t wait…” he forced out, but the nerves started clenching his stomach again. 

“What is it?” she sighed, letting go of his waist and backing up so he could hold both her hands in his. 

“Um,” he said. _Will you marry me? Will you marry me? Will you marry me?_ “What would you think if I quit my job?”

“ _What?”_

“My job,” he rushed, “you know I’m getting older, and to be honest, modeling has never really been my thing. And with my master’s complete, I was thinking about applying to get my doctorate—”

“Oh gosh,” she rolled her eyes, “You’re not still going on about being a physics professor, are you? I thought we’d talked about this! You’ve got a plan, nay, a responsibility to carry on the family business! It’s a blessing, Adrien! So few people get handed a roaring fashion empire on a platter. The people of New York _need_ you at _Gabriel!_ _I_ need you!”

He shook his head, “Jacqueline,” he used a carefully measured tone, “I got word this morning from Paris. _Gabriel_ is declaring bankruptcy at the end of the year. The litigation after my father’s imprisonment drained the coffers. _Gabriel_ is done.”

“W-what?” she gasped, her leather gloves slipping over her lips. “What are you saying, Adrien?”

He swallowed, “I’m saying I’m penniless. But I’ve got offers from several universities for stipends and scholarships, and I was hoping—”

“ _Penniless?”_ she screeched. She backed up several paces. Adrien was confused.

“Yes, but we love each other. Jacqueline, don’t you see? This is our chance! This is our chance to start afresh, to step away from the spotlight, to build a totally new life together! We could move away from the city, we could get a house and I could teach and you can model or do whatever you want—”

“Whatever _I_ want?” she growled, “How in the world is this about what _I_ want? I already have what I want! Had, I guess, I _had_ what I wanted! This is what I want,” she said, pointing at the sidewalk below them, “This! New York! Modeling! Parties and face recognition and Louboutins and _this!_ Us, me, y-y-you… But what do you mean _penniless?_ ”

The knot in Adrien’s stomach moved to his chest. “Jacqueline, what does it matter how much money I have? We love each other!”

She shook her head slowly, her blonde curls bouncing at her ears. “N-no,” she gasped, “You’re a liar and a cheat. How long have you known? How long have you led me on?”

“I told you, this morning—”

“You knew. You knew sooner. You let me think that you were this wealthy heir to the _Gabriel_ throne and you lied to me. You threw it all away. For what? So you can teach physics to a bunch of ungrateful co-eds? I can’t… I can’t even—” she scowled, backing up.

“Jacqueline, please don’t—” he begged, but she was already spinning on her heel. “Jacqueline! I love you!” he tried one last time, but she was gone, running away, leaving Adrien with his heart breaking behind her. He collapsed on the park bench and cried for a long time. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket and opened it up. “Maman,” he whispered to this small relic from his mother, “she left me. I don’t even know how it happened; only that she’s gone. I thought this place would bring me peace. I thought she was the one, but now she’s gone. What do I do now, Maman? What do I do now?”


	2. Sweaters and Stains

The airport smelled familiar. Adrien inhaled and closed his eyes as he stepped on Parisian soil for the first time in seven years. Had it really been that long? In some ways, it felt much longer than that. But mostly, it felt like yesterday. He wound his way through customs completely lost in thought, and when he made it to the baggage claim, he was no closer to working past the bitter thoughts than when he’d climbed on the plane ten hours earlier. 

“Dude!” he heard, and Adrien looked up to see Nino waving at him from the waiting area. “Adrien!”

“Nino!” Adrien grinned. Nino bounded to Adrien in a few lanky steps and clapped his arms around Adrien’s back. 

“I’m _so_ glad you called me,” Nino grinned, stepping back and adjusting his ballcap. “Though it totally sucks that you have all this legal paperwork during Christmas.”

Adrien swallowed and nodded. He knew he could have put off the paperwork if he’d pushed for it, but the honest truth was he couldn’t stand to be in New York, not any more. But Nino didn’t know he and Jacqueline had broken up, and Adrien had called his best friend because he knew Nino wouldn’t pry. The two collected Adrien’s bag and took the metro back to Nino’s apartment. 

“So, two weeks, that’s all you’ve got here? Two weeks?”

Adrien nodded grimly, “Yeah, that should be sufficient to finalize the sale of the mansion and shutter _Gabriel_ forever.”

“But that means you’re going back to New York on Christmas Eve. You know you can stay with me as long as you like, man. You could stay through Christmas.”

Adrien shook his head tersely, “I’ve got stuff to do in New York; I’ve got to get back.”

Nino shrugged, “Ok, have it your way. But know, the offer stands.”

“Thanks,” Adrien tried to smile, but Nino saw straight through it.

“Alright, dude, what’s wrong? Girl troubles?”

Adrien looked out the window of the train as the tunnel around them blurred by, “Something like that.”

Nino’s eyebrows furrowed, “Hey, man, you can talk to me. Or not. Just, whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“Thanks,” Adrien repeated, “but I really just need time.”

“Ok, that’s cool.” 

The two rode in silence until Nino’s stop, and then they started working their way up the street to the apartment building. “So, uh, Adrien,” Nino said, “you know I’m still with Alya and all that… well, her family invited me for a Christmas celebration later this week, and I’ve still got work and stuff, so I’m afraid I’m not going to be the world’s greatest host—”

Adrien chuckled, “It’s totally ok. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy. I’m afraid I’m going to be lousy company as it is. Please don’t feel like you have to entertain me all the time.”

Nino smiled and slapped Adrien’s back again. “Ok, that’s good to hear. So, I’ll give you my spare key, and you feel comfortable coming and going as needed. But dude, you’ve _got_ to come to the Winter Gala on the twenty-third, ok? I won’t take no for an answer.”

“The Winter Gala?”

“Yeah, it’s this great fundraiser event that Marinette Dupain-Cheng is putting together. You remember Marinette? Anyway, she’s going all out, she’s got Kitty Section playing, Alya’s mom is catering, it’s going to be spectacular. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“Everyone?” Adrien fretted.

“Yes, everyone, but don’t worry about it. They all love you, man. Who cares what your dad did?”

Adrien winced. “ _I_ care,” he muttered.

Nino halted and gave an awkward look to Adrien, “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s ok,” Adrien gritted his teeth. “It’s in the past. He’s locked away; it’s over.”

“That’s true. But I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. All I meant was that all our friends from school will be there, and it’s for a good cause, and everyone still cares about you so much. They know that what Hawkmoth did was not your fault.”

Adrien took a breath and steeled himself, “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright, then,” Nino conceded with a grin, “let’s get you settled in.”

Nino’s apartment was small and sparse, but clean and friendly. It only had one bedroom, but the living room was big enough to accommodate him comfortably on the couch in front of an old wood fireplace. Adrien set his bag at the foot of the couch as Nino dug out some blankets and sheets from the linen closet. “Uh,” Nino said sheepishly, “I’m sorry I don’t have a spare bedroom—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Adrien admonished, and quickly made up the couch. “This is totally fine. Seriously, man, it’s so much better than being alone in New York.”

“Alone? I thought you were going to your girlfriend’s parents—” Adrien shot Nino a look and Nino bit his fist. “Never mind. Time.”

Adrien nodded once, “Yeah, time.” 

Nino left Adrien to settle in and warmed up a can of soup in the kitchen for dinner. The two ate in companionable silence, both fiddling with their phones. “Dang,” Nino muttered, “I’ve got to go check on a gig tonight. You going to be ok?”

Adrien yawned, “Me? Oh, sure. Jet lag. I’ll probably just go to bed.”

Nino smiled at his friend, then cleaned up his dishes and buried himself in winter gear before heading off. Now alone, Adrien looked around the simple apartment. What he wouldn’t give for an apartment like this—not the penthouse on Times Square he currently called home. Nino didn’t know how lucky he was here, with his cold fireplace and his friends close by and his lumpy mattress. Suddenly feeling lonely, Adrien scrubbed the regrets from his eyes and donned his favorite deep green sweater, then left for a walk. Yes, a brisk walk in the cool evening air was just what he needed. Clear his head, work off the jet lag, forget about Jacqueline and New York and the business and all of it.

Paris was just as he remembered it—the sounds, the smells, the language, the skyline—everything. As he strolled down the streets, he passed familiar shops and cafes. He made his way into his old arrondisement and a fond smile split his face. His old school, Collège Françoise Dupont, stood quiet and imposing as ever. He could practically hear Monsieur Damocles’ owl call, or smell Mademoiselle Bustier’s perfume. He could almost see students sprinting up the steps. He could see the silver sedan pulling up to take him home, and then he could hear the click of Nathalie’s heels and the cold emptiness of the mansion, or the clipped conversations with his father. A breeze lifted the back of Adrien’s hair and he shivered, then pulled his sweater up around his ears. He really did miss this place, even if the good memories were stained with the bad ones. He scrunched his nose up and pinched his eyes shut, then took a deep breath and counted to three. “He’s not here anymore; he’s in prison.” Adrien whispered to himself. His therapist had given him a slew of grounding techniques, but he was having a hard time remembering them. 

Then, as if it were calling him from his past, the breeze brought the smell of baking macarons to his nostrils, and he turned away from the school. There, where it always had sat so warm and inviting, was the Dupain Boulangerie-Patisserie. The fond smile returned. Yeah, a macaron sounded perfect right about now.

He bolted across the street and pushed the bakery door open. The bell tinkled above his head, but nobody was at the register. “Hello?” he said softly, letting the warmth of the building overwhelm him. The room was richly perfumed with spices and sugar.

“And then,” a quiet voice was saying from the far back, “you just scrape your knife on the back of it like this, and you get all that goodness out. See? Ok, you try. Yeah, just cut, yep, like that, and then turn the knife over, good, and press it down. Perfect!” Adrien looked over the counter and could just make out Marinette in the bakery kitchen. Her back was turned to him, but there was no mistaking the rich black hair that tumbled down her back, or the petite yet powerful frame. She’d grown three or four centimeters, and her curves had filled out a bit, but she remained short and slim. There was a younger person beside Marinette, and they were working on a cutting board with a heaping pile of fragrant vanilla beans. “Alright, Manon,” Marinette was saying, “keep working on this, I think I heard the bell.”

Adrien felt a flurry of anticipation in his stomach. Other than the occasional ‘like’ on social media, he’d had next to no interaction with any of his school friends in years. Would Marinette remember him? Just then, the door opened and a pair of harried customers burst in. Adrien stepped to the side and looked at the croissants in the display case. 

“Hello,” Marinette’s voice greeted the couple, “how can I help you?” Adrien nervously kept his face turned away from Marinette. The couple ordered a baguette, half a dozen macarons, and a carafe of homemade hot chocolate. “And for you, sir?” Marinette said. Adrien didn’t turn. “Sir?”

“She means you, kid,” the gruff gentleman beside him prodded. Adrien turned, startled, and Marinette gasped. 

“Oh, uh, hey,” he said stupidly. Had she always been so beautiful? Her eyes were wide and bluer than the ocean on a sunny day. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were soft and shiny. Adrien did a double take. Then a triple take. Could this stunning woman really be the same girl who had sat behind him in school? Who spoke in riddles? Who he was never quite sure if she liked him or not? 

_“Adrien?”_ she screeched, and the hot chocolate in her hand went flying, falling to the floor and splattering in a brown river of sweetness. The couple screamed in shock and jumped backward, but Adrien’s sweater caught the worst of the mess, and he gasped as the scorching liquid soaked into his shirt. “Oh!” Marinette cried, “No! I’m so sorry!”

Yep. It was still Marinette. Adrien chuckled as she hurriedly grabbed a mop and a towel and raced around the counter to start sopping up the mess. She couldn’t decide whether to clean the floor or Adrien off first or to ring up the couple or apologize, so she did it all at once. Adrien suppressed the guffaw that was threatening to spill out as Marinette held a towel to his shirt, used her foot to mop up the floor, and made change for a twenty simultaneously. The couple scowled and stalked off, and once they were safely alone, Marinette gave Adrien a sorrowful look. Adrien finally released the laughter—and it felt _so_ good. He laughed and laughed until his cheeks started to ache. “Oh, Marinette!” he giggled.

“I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

“I know, I know!” he laughed. The tension from the last few days was dissipating with every breath. “You really don’t need to worry about it,” he managed through his laughter. 

“I just didn’t expect to see you and then you were right _there_ and I thought you were in New York and—” Marinette babbled on, “hey, what _are_ you doing here?”

“Uh,” he said as her hand paused on the cloth she was holding to his stomach, “I had some stuff to take care of—”

“But it’s _Christmas!_ Certainly you wanted to spend Christmas with your g-girlfriend?” He bit his lower lip and Marinette shook her head suddenly, “Nope, nevermind, that’s none of my business. I’m just surprised you’re here. Are you going to be here long?”

He chuckled, “So many questions.”

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks flaming pink, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Marinette,” he said, rolling his eyes, “it’s fine. Really.” She smiled and looked at her shoes. Her bangs fell across her forehead and into her eyes. Adrien resisted the temptation to push them behind her tiny ears, bedecked only by simple black earrings. Marinette continued to mop up the hot chocolate on Adrien’s sweater, and he chuckled again at her insistence. “You know what,” he said, “let’s just do this,” and he lifted the sweater over his head, leaving him in his form-fitting white button down. As the sweater pulled over his face, the button down pulled up a bit, exposing the skin of his stomach to the cooler air. He heard Marinette gasp, and when the green sweater made it to his forearms, he saw her staring at his abs. 

“Wow,” she breathed, “are those real? I mean,” she gulped, looking up at him with a horrified expression, “are you really here? For… for Christmas?”

He pulled his shirt down to his waist and grinned, “Well, not all the way until Christmas. Just for a couple weeks. I’ve got some legal stuff I have to deal with.”

She nodded and kept her eyes glued to his. 

“Marinette?” Manon’s voice giggled from the kitchen entrance, “Were you staring at Adrien’s abs?”

“Shush, you!” Marinette wheeled on Manon, “Besides, you can’t have finished all those vanilla beans by now!”

Manon giggled and returned to her workspace. “Wow,” Adrien smiled, watching the teenager he had known as a tiny girl retreat to the kitchen, “She’s grown up.”

Marinette smiled and nodded, “Yeah, she helps out evenings and weekends nowadays. But,” Marinette raised her voice pointedly, “She’s still a pest!”

Manon laughed raucously from the kitchen and Marinette waved her off. Adrien couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. It had been a long time since someone had ogled his abs in that way—in a way that didn’t mean money and fame and greed. It made him feel different; special, somehow. “So!” he segwayed, looking around the display case, “What’s really fresh? I haven’t been to Paris in years. I miss all the pastries.”

Marinette snapped into attendant mode and pulled out a tray of goodies. “Well,” she said, pointing everything out, “We just finished the Madeleines this morning, and of course the croissants are the best in Paris. But today is macaron day. We’re doing vanilla bean, _if_ Manon can finish scraping out the caviar—and you’re not too late to put in a special request.”

“Really?” he said. “So, I could get something like… hm…”

“Passionfruit?” she suggested.

“How did you know?” he gasped.

She looked back down at her shoes, “It always was your favorite.”

“And you remembered?”

“You know what?” Marinette burst out, “why don’t you come back here and help us. If you have time, that is?”

Adrien grinned. She was ogling his abs and inviting him to help make macarons? Yeah, she was definitely making him feel special. “I’ve got time,” he replied. 

“Awesome,” Marinette smiled, her little lips pulling up in a really attractive way. “Well, come on back. Here’s a hair net and an apron, and you can wash up over here. 

He put on the hair net and Manon burst into laughter. “Adrien! You look ridiculous!” she laughed.

“He does not!” Marinette scolded, “And if you can’t be nice to our guest, you can go home early!” Marinette turned to look at Adrien in his flouncy apron and hair net, and she suppressed a giggle.

“I told you,” Manon teased.

“She’s right,” Adrien added, “I’m sure I _do_ look ridiculous.”

“Well,” Marinette said, and her fingers brushed across Adrien’s forehead as she tried to adjust the unflattering hair net, “maybe just a little bit. But it’s cute. Really.” She gulped, and Adrien’s stomach jolted as her fingers trailed down his cheek. “So, what flavors do you want to make?”

“Well, what are the options?” he smiled.

“With Christmas just around the corner,” Marinette started, “we’ve been making lots of peppermint, gingerbread, cranberry, pistachio, or persimmon.”

“But you said passionfruit was an option?”

“Well, yeah, we can definitely do some of them. They’re just…” she stopped, then waved her comment away.

“Just what?” he asked.

She blushed and looked at her feet. “It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me!” he insisted.

Marinette tapped her fingertips together nervously, “They’re just not very good sellers, is all!”

“What?” he playfully gasped, pressing his hand to his heart, “the world doesn’t love passionfruit macarons?”

“Well, _I_ love them, but not everyone has that refined of tastes!”

He burst out in laughter, mainly at how serious she was. “Marinette,” he chortled, “it’s fine! I’m perfectly happy with vanilla bean or peppermint!”

She pouted, “You should get whatever you want, though!”

“Hey!” another feminine voice unexpectedly called from above them, and Marinette’s mother started descending the stairs, “dinner is ready! Manon, thanks for all your help, your mother’s here to pick you up.”

“Thank you, Madame Cheng!” Manon chirped and started putting away her own hair net and apron. 

“Oh my,” Sabine Cheng gasped when she was halfway down the stairs, “Is that… no, that’s impossible, is that _Adrien Agreste?_ In our bakery? Bless my soul, it _is_!” The tiny Chinese woman was down the stairs in a flash and was patting Adrien’s cheeks. “When did you get back to Paris? Are you going to be here long? How’s everything in New York? Do you miss Paris? Are you going to stay here forever?”

Marinette scolded, “ _Maman!”_

“Um,” Adrien swallowed as Manon waved and skipped out the bakery door. “I’ve just got some business stuff to do here and—”

“And,” Marinette finished for him, “he doesn’t want to talk about it, ok, Maman? So just drop it!”

“Nonsense,” Sabine shook her head, “he’s here, he’s our guest. You look like you haven’t eaten a decent meal in years. Come on. Supper’s ready.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at Adrien as if to ask his permission, and all Adrien could do in response was grin. It really had been years since he’d eaten a decent meal—at least, one with people who cared about him this much. The canned soup felt years away suddenly, and his mouth started watering as soon as the smells from the residence above hit his nose. “I’d love nothing more, Madame Cheng.”


	3. Cassoulet and Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien joins the Dupain-Cheng family for supper and catches up with Marinette.

Marinette fell into step beside Adrien after she locked up the bakery. “So,” Adrien whispered to Marinette, “is this ok? Me staying for dinner?”

She flushed lightly, “It’s great, just fine. I’m fine.”

“Sounds good,” he grinned. “Sounds _fine,_ to be exact.” 

She scowled, “You’re teasing me already? You’ve been back, what, four hours maybe, and you’re teasing me already?”

He elbowed her playfully, “You know it.” It felt so good to have someone to banter with that he didn’t even notice how Madame Cheng was setting the table with Adrien’s plate a little closer to Marinette’s, or the way she took his soiled sweater and ran it to the laundry. Monsieur Dupain was already seated in the residence, a blanket pulled across his lap. 

“Papa, how are you feeling today?” Marinette trilled, kissing her father on the head.

“Just dandy,” the hulking man winked. Adrien had always been fond of Monsieur Dupain, but admittedly found him intimidating. 

“Look, Tom!” Sabine chimed in, “We have a guest! Of course, you remember Adrien Agreste?”

Tom’s face lit up. “Adrien? Really? I thought you moved!”

“Well, I did. I live in New York now. I’m just home for a few weeks.”

“For Christmas?”

“No, I’m here until—”

“You’ve _got_ to stay for Christmas, though!”

“Well, it’s not really up to me—”

“At least tell me you’ll be here for Mare-bear’s big fundraiser Winter Gala; it’s going to be wonderful!”

Marinette looked at her shoes again, and Adrien smiled, “I’m going to try.”

“Excellent!” Tom boomed, but then he winced. Marinette rushed to his side and rubbed his shoulder softly. 

“Take it easy, it’s ok,” the big man’s daughter whispered soothingly. Adrien looked again at Tom. Something wasn’t right. He was normally such a commanding presence. Right now, he looked tired. Or weak. Or… it just wasn’t right. 

Adrien made himself useful in the kitchen as Marinette tended to her father. Sabine handed Adrien a stack of forks and knives to take to the table. “So,” she pressed, “you’re here for business?”

He nodded, still furtively watching Marinette and Tom out of the side of his eye. “Yeah,” he mumbled absentmindedly, “is everything ok with Tom?”

Sabine frowned, “Nothing a little chemotherapy won’t fix up!”

“Chemo? Oh,” Adrien’s heart sank, “cancer?” Sabine froze and blinked rapidly, then looked away. The subject was obviously painful to her. “I’m sorry,” he backpedaled, “I shouldn’t pry.”

“It’s fine, dear. We caught it pretty early, and he’s responding well to treatments. He just gets tired a lot. Some days are harder than others. Marinette’s been a real gem, coming and running the bakery when Tom is struggling.”

“Wow, I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Adrien scuffed his toe on the ground sheepishly.

Sabine patted his arm. “It’s ok. We’re doing just fine. The hardest part—” her voice cracked once, but she maintained her composure, “—is not knowing.”

Adrien thought back to the years where his mother was missing, and nodded deftly, “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do, dear,” Sabine responded tenderly. “Heaven knows you’ve had your fair share of trial.” Adrien got lost in the small Asian woman’s eyes momentarily. She was so kind it caught him off guard. But then, his stomach growled noisily and Sabine laughed. “Sounds like someone’s ready for dinner!”

Tom managed to make it to the table and the four of them enjoyed the meal together. Sabine had made cassoulet and fresh bread. Marinette animatedly told Tom about his beloved regular customers and he walked her through some special orders. “Now remember,” he was saying, “Madame Bernard needs certified gluten-free, and Monsieur Renoir loves the little sugar poinsettias you make so well on his Bouche de Noel. He won’t ask for them, but he loves them, so just surprise him, ok?”

“I know, Papa,” Marinette smiled, and leaned over and kissed her father on the forehead. “You’ve taught me well since I was three years old.”

“But Mademoiselle Genivere is notorious for submitting late orders, so I always make an extra—”

“You always make an extra batch of croissants and pain au chocolat just in case. I know!”

Adrien’s heart swelled at the interaction. Marinette glanced his way and caught him staring at her. She really was a thoughtful person. He’d almost forgotten how much she cared for others. As their eyes met, he smiled before looking back at his plate. “Madame Cheng, this in wonderful,” he said. 

“I hope you’ve saved room for dessert,” she responded, before going to the refrigerator and pulling out a stunning pistachio cake with chocolate curls and candied cranberries. “We’ve been practicing in the bakery and had some leftovers,” she said apologetically.

“ _This_ is leftovers?” Adrien gasped with wide eyes. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a beautiful cake! I don’t think I could cut into that and ruin such an incredible masterpiece!”

Marinette blushed and fiddled with her fork, “Um, thanks,” she responded softly.

“ _You_ made this, Marinette?”

She shrugged and nodded demurely. “Like my mother said, it was just practice.”

Adrien turned the cake plate around so he could admire every intricate detail. “I’d say you’re an expert.”

“Well, I’m learning from the best,” she added humbly, patting her father’s hand. Tom looked like he might burst from pride. Madame Cheng insisted on cutting the cake and giving everyone a slice. Adrien took a bite and the buttery nuttiness melted over his tongue, enhanced with spices and velvety buttercream. 

“Mmm,” he groaned, taking another bite of pure extasy. “Marinette,” he moaned as his cake steadily disappeared, “I think you’ve found your calling.”

She smiled and politely ate her own cake, but it was Tom that protested. “No, as much as I’d love it if Marinette took over the bakery full time, we’re _going_ to get you back in school. I’m determined.”

“Nevermind that, Papa,” Marinette said quietly, biting her trembling lip.

“What? School?”

“Fashion school, at ESMOD,” Tom clarified. “Marinette was top of her class. _Is_ top of her class. Will be top of her class again, just as soon as I can get back in the kitchen.”

Adrien gave a quizzical look to Marinette, who clammed up and just shook her head. Sabine, once again, was willing to explain. “When Tom got diagnosed earlier this year, Marinette left school so that she could help out here. We keep telling her that it’s fine to go back—she has a scholarship and everything—”

“Maman,” Marinette said in a steady tone, despite her shaking fingers, “It’s just fine. I love helping here. You need me.”

Sabine took a bite of her cake and nodded, “That’s true.”

“That’s true,” Tom added in a thick voice. “My sweet baby girl has to leave her dream school and potential career because her invalid father can’t carry his own weight.”

“Papa!” Marinette cried, “Stop it! I love you and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. ESMOD will still be there.”

“Yeah, but fashion is such a fast-paced industry. If you’re not in, you’re out. And,” he sobbed, “I hate being the weak link that keeps you from your dream.”

Marinette shook her head ardently and took her father’s hands, “This is my dream—this family, helping you and Maman, helping our friends and neighbors. Please, please don’t feel sorry for me. I love my life.”

Tom’s eyes leaked for a while, and Adrien was sure he didn’t buy it totally, but he smiled weakly and patted Marinette’s cheek. “You’re too good to me.”

Marinette wiped a tender tear of her own, and leaned into her father’s touch, “Not possible.”

As the family moment ended, Adrien suddenly felt like an outsider. Madame Cheng sensed the shift as well and stood up to begin clearing the table. Adrien jumped to his feet and volunteered to do the dishes. Before he knew it, he was up to his elbows in soapy water with Marinette by his side, drying towel in hand. Tom was tired, so Sabine took him upstairs to get ready for bed. Adrien and Marinette insisted they could finish cleaning up themselves.

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner,” he said. “I admit, I had a bowl of canned soup with Nino after I arrived, but this was just _so_ good…”

“Yeah,” she giggled, “it’s hard to beat Maman’s cassoulet. So, your plane just came in today?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You must be exhausted, then! I’m sorry, I can finish up, call you a cab back to Nino’s apartment.”

“Are you kidding me?” he teased, “I promised a fierce little woman that I’d do these dishes, and I fear what might happen if I bail on you.”

Marinette giggled and gave him side-eye, “You’re right to be afraid. Maman can be pretty scary sometimes.”

Adrien pondered playfully, “I seem to recall her wielding a bread peel like a jingu bang on national television once, just because the cameras had snuck up to your bedroom without permission.”

Marinette made an adorable little “Eep!” sound. “That’s right, she was defending my honor, so don’t you forget it!”

“Hm,” Adrien said with a lilt in his voice, “I wonder what your mother would do if I got suds in your hair.”

Marinette shot him a warning look, but it was too late. Adrien clenched his fist rapidly under the tower of soap bubbles and shot a puff of foam at Marinette’s head. She dodged, but it ended up hitting her chin instead of her hair. “Hey!” she giggled, the bubbles bouncing on her chin like a beard. A mischievous glint flashed in her eye, and she scooped a handful of soap and plopped it on Adrien’s head. 

“This means war!” he cried, and suddenly soap bubbles were flying everywhere. Marinette snapped Adrien’s thigh with the towel in her hand and he retaliated by pulling out the faucet spray nozzle and hitting Marinette in the stomach. She giggled, dove over the kitchen island, and started throwing hot pads at Adrien’s head. He tried to return them at her, but she spun her towel rapidly and swatted the hot pads away midair. Adrien didn’t have time to be stunned by her prowess, as she brought the empty cake plate with her back over the island and hooked a large gob of buttercream in her finger. He was too slow to react, and she caught him in the nose with the buttercream. “Oh!” he yelped, as Marinette backed away slowly, a triumphant look on her face. He stared cross-eyed at the frosting on his nose as he plotted his revenge, then determined the best course of action—he licked the frosting off. 

“Holy!” she gawked, “You can lick your nose! That’s amazing!” He laughed and did it again. “Wow! Can you show me how?”

He wiped his hands on the towel she was still holding, and then the two retreated to the couch so Adrien could explain how he practiced licking his nose and Marinette, adorably, tried and failed to copy him. “No, you’ve got to bite down on your tongue a bit… like this…”

“I don’t think I can… unnngh…Nope—I guess my tongue just isn’t long enough.”

He laughed, “I think it’s perfect just the way it is.”

She flushed and her eyes popped in surprise. Adrien was serious—her tongue was perfect. Her lips were perfect, especially slightly agape like that. He had the sudden urge to lean over and kiss her, but she was already turning away. Kiss her? What was he thinking!? He’d only been here a day, not even that, and he hadn’t seen Marinette in years! He must just be getting over Jacqueline, that’s all. He sat back and wiped the rest of the frosting from his nose. After a beat, he returned to the sink and drained the soapy water. “Um,” he muttered awkwardly, “it’s probably time for me to head back to Nino’s.”

“Oh, sure,” she acknowledged and hung up her towel to dry. “I’m so glad you stopped by.”

“Me too. I had… I had a really nice time.”

She smiled, the dimple on her cheek popping, “Maybe you can drop by again before you go home, if you have time?”

Adrien’s heart swelled, “I’d like that very much.”

“Well,” she said, scuffing her toe on the ground, “be safe and have a good night.”

“You too.”

He gathered his things and left the apartment. He’d hadn’t even made it across the street when the door to the bakery jangled behind him, “Adrien, wait!” Marinette’s voice cried. He turned around to see her, flushed, her hair billowing around her slim neck. For some unknown reason, hope blossomed in his chest. Maybe she’d want him to stay a little longer! Maybe she’d want to set up a dinner date with just the two of them! Adrien had been without friends he could laugh with for so long that he’d forgotten how good it could feel. Now, even after one evening together, he craved more desperately. 

“Yes?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“You forgot your sweater!” She ran over to him and handed him a paper bag from the Patisserie. Inside, he saw the green sweater folded nicely. 

“Oh,” he said, a little downcast, “Thanks.” Downcast—why? Why should he be downcast? “Thank you very much,” he reiterated.

As she let go of the bag, her hand brushed against his and a tingle of electricity raced up his arm. “Tell Nino I said hi,” she smiled, “And I really do hope to see you again.”

“You can count on it,” he winked, the hope returning to his chest. “Goodnight, Marinette.”

“Goodnight, Adrien.” 

Adrien turned and headed for Nino’s apartment, but noticed a box of assorted macarons underneath the sweater. He gnawed his lower lip as heat pooled in his chest. He couldn’t remember a time—ever—where he’d felt so loved. Her family shared their warmth and generosity so effortlessly that Adrien had a hard time not running back to bask in their presence for a few minutes more. He walked for a solid block before sneaking a peek at the cozy bakery behind him. Marinette was still there, her inky hair just visible in star-speckled streetlight.


	4. Tree Lot and Popcorn Strings

“I’m telling you Tikki, I do _not_ still have feelings for him! It’s been years. I’ve moved on. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend in New York. I’ve seen them on Instagram. She’s adorable.”

“But _you’re_ adorable, Marinette!” the little red kwami chirped.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Thanks, Tikki, but my days of pining after him are over. He deserves space and time. He doesn’t need another crazy fan girl. Hey, could you hand me that whisk?”

Tikki was an excellent kitchen assistant, but it had been years since Marinette had turned to her for romantic advice. Ever since they’d defeated Hawkmoth, and Chat Noir had left his ring on the top of the Eiffel Tower, and then Adrien had moved away to New York mere days later, Marinette hadn’t been the same. She’d actually been dating Luka at the time but losing her partner and her first crush in one fell swoop had left her a broken, depressed woman. Slowly, Marinette had worked her way out of her depression, but she’d never been the same. Mostly, she didn’t talk to Tikki—or anyone, for that matter—about Adrien anymore. It was a topic Tikki knew not to bring up. Tikki handed Marinette the whisk and then started sifting almond flour. “Ok, so you don’t have feelings for him anymore,” Tikki admitted, “but you have to admit, seeing him yesterday was pretty special.”

Marinette sighed and buckled down on her egg whites. “Yeah, it was.” She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs away, “But just as a friend. Besides, even if he were available, which he’s not, and even if he were staying in Paris permanently, which he’s not, I’m _not_ looking for a relationship, with Adrien or anyone. I’m far too busy with the bakery and Papa and trying to keep up on my sewing practice so that if—that is, when—I get back to school I’m not horribly behind, and my duties as Ladybug and guardian… And Tikki, I’m happy. I’m really happy with my life right now.”

Tikki paused and nuzzled a flour-covered nose to Marinette’s cheek. “I know. I know how much it hurt when he left, and how much it hurt to lose Chat Noir at the same time—”

Marinette bit her lip. “I just wish I knew what happened to him.”

“To Adrien? You knew, he moved—”

“No, to Chat Noir. I thought he’d be so excited when we unmasked Hawkmoth, but he just left. He never said goodbye. Just the note, the Miraculous, and that was it.” She sniffed back tears. “I wish I knew what I did wrong.”

For the umpteenth time, Tikki wished she could share everything with Marinette. But, it was the guardian’s prerogative not to reveal identities, and Tikki was bound to the magic just as much as Plagg had been when Marinette had begged him for answers. Now, Chat Noir’s ring sat cold and still in the Miracle Box, next to the butterfly brooch. For a long time, Marinette had searched the faces of every boy she passed, hoping to find him and give it back, but eventually, she’d stopped looking. There hadn’t been a supervillain attack since Gabriel Agreste had been taken to prison, so there had never been a need for a new partner—which was fine with Marinette. There was only one partner she still wished would return.

Marinette changed the subject and the two of them finished the macarons and Madame Bernard’s gluten free torte. Marinette loved this time of day. Through her school years, she had hated waking up early to help in the bakery, but now, it was her favorite. Tikki could come out in the open and they could work together until the first few customers started trickling in. It was a pretty quiet day, all in all, leaving Marinette plenty of time to think about the previous evening and seeing Adrien again. The truth was, she _had_ felt something when she’d seen him. But she was determined not to fall apart again. He was there for business. One dinner was hardly a date, let alone a relationship. 

A few hours later, the breakfast rush had died down, and Marinette’s mother took over the till for the day. “So,” Sabine asked her daughter as Marinette cleaned the counter, “what are you planning for today?”

Marinette yawned, “I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do, and tonight I’m volunteering at The Children’s Center, so I’ll be out late.”

“That’s fine, dear,” she said. “We don’t have any doctor appointments today, so don’t worry about the bakery. You deserve a Christmas break!”

“Christmas break? What’s that?” Marinette teased with a wink, but still hung up her apron. “Thank you, Maman.” 

Marinette gathered her coat, boots, and purse, and headed out for her morning errands. She felt a little sneaky. Yes, she had Christmas shopping, but she hadn’t clarified what kind of shopping. Marinette went straight for the Christmas Tree lot, since they’d been way too busy to do much decorating. They owned a small artificial tree that Marinette had set up, but hadn’t yet decorated, but Marinette was itching for something better this year. She wanted, no, needed this Christmas to be perfect. It had been such a difficult year with her father’s diagnosis, leaving ESMOD, the bakery struggling, and more—they definitely needed it.

Marinette was so deep in thought when she passed Nino’s apartment building that she didn’t even look up or hear the rushed footsteps behind her. “Marinette! Marinette?” a deep voice pulled her up from her reverie, and she startled.

Spinning around, she nearly tripped, but a strong yet gentle hand wrapped around her shoulders and steadied her. “Adrien?” she gasped, as warm green eyes smiled down at her. 

“Hey, fancy meeting you here!”

She blinked rapidly, the vision of his perfect face suddenly right there still giving her heart palpitations, “Yeah, I was just… I was just going shopping. What are _you_ doing?”

Adrien shrugged. He was wearing a beautifully tailored men’s coat, jeans, and off-brand brown shoes. She did a doubletake at his shoes. When they had been in College together, and even in Lycee, Adrien had always worn _Gabriel_ brand shoes. He was well known for it. And while she was certain that the coat and jeans were still from his father’s company line, the shoes were not. There was no butterfly emblem on the sides. She thought she knew why—the discovery that his own father had been Hawkmoth, and that Adrien’s mother had died at some point in the several years Ladybug and Chat Noir had battled him, was beyond devastating to Adrien. Marinette wished she could have helped Adrien more, but he left for New York right away. She supposed this act—not wearing his father’s logo—was an ongoing silent protest, and her heart swelled. Poor, sweet Adrien; what he must have gone through, and still be going through! 

Adrien had responded to Marinette’s question, but she was too busy staring at his shoes to hear him. “Marinette?”

“Hmm?” she said, looking back up into his face, embarrassed. 

He chuckled warmly, “I said I had a few hours so I thought I’d try to find a thank-you gift for Nino, you know, since he’s putting me up and I barely gave him any warning I was coming, but I have no idea what to get, so I was wondering if you had any ideas.” He smiled one of his dazzling megawatt smiles that still made Marinette’s knees weak, “You always have the best ideas.” He winked. Dang, if he kept this up, she was going to be in serious trouble.

 _Focus on the task at hand. Remember, he has a girlfriend. He’s going back to New York._ “Oh, that sounds nice.” _Good. Perfect. Keep going._ “How about something for his apartment? What does he not have?”

The two started walking together in the direction Marinette had been headed as Adrien pondered, “Well, it’s not a very big apartment, but it’s clean and friendly. The couch,” Adrien stretched and pretended to have crick in his back, “is better for sitting than sleeping.” Marinette giggled, which made Adrien smile even wider. “But I don’t think a new couch is on the docket for today. Maybe something for the kitchen? But I would be totally lost shopping for kitchen things.”

Marinette tapped her lips thoughtfully, “Does he have a good mixer?”

Adrien laughed again, and Marinette’s heart continued to skip beats. _Seriously, Marinette! He’s taken!_ “Nino? A mixer? Um, no. The guy barely has a can opener.”

Marinette shook her head, “I guess we both knew that was going to happen.”

Adrien smiled fondly and shrugged, “Yeah, what else would you expect from Nino? But think about it, his girlfriend’s mom is a chef, five days a week he’s got evening gigs and they almost always feed him…”

“And,” Marinette noted, “he comes by the bakery frequently for breakfast. Yeah, I guess he just doesn’t eat at home very often.”

Adrien nodded in agreement, “So it makes sense.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Do _you_ eat at home frequently?”

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. Marinette had nearly forgotten that he did that. “Uh, I guess you caught me. You’d be embarrassed if you saw my kitchen drawers.”

She rolled her eyes, “I probably wouldn’t. I know lots of people with sparse kitchens. So, if not eating at home, and without a friendly bakery around the corner that sells fresh croissants, what’s your typical day like?”

“Hm… well, usually I have a protein shake after my morning workout, grab lunch in between classes, and when I had photo shoots, I’d use the salad bar they provided.” He turned back to Marinette and the full power of his gaze melted her. “But don’t tell my agent—my guilty pleasure is hot dogs.”

“Hot dogs?” Marinette had a distant memory of the magical hot dog she shared with Adrien many, many years ago. 

He nodded, “There’s a cart that sells these amazing New York style hot dogs. But Jacqueline always looked down on it. Said it was cheating on my diet.” He frowned and looked down, suddenly sad. Marinette’s stomach dropped; she hated to see him sad. She touched his arm gently.

“They sound amazing. I wish I could try them some time.”

His face lit back up, “Well, next time you happen to be in New York, I’ll take you.”

She flushed and swallowed, “You’d better!”

Adrien looked up. “Christmas trees, eh?”

“What?” Marinette asked, then realized they’d made it to the Christmas tree lot some time ago. “Oh! Yeah. I was going to surprise my parents.” 

He looked down at her, back at the rows of massive trees, then back at her, “You were going to buy a Christmas tree all by yourself?”

“Yes…?” her voice trailed off.

“And carry it home all by yourself?”

“So?” His eyebrow lifted slowly in skepticism. “Listen,” Marinette huffed, stuffing her fists on her hips, “I’m stronger than I look, ok?”

He laughed musically, “Oh, I know that. I just fear for the lives of the other pedestrians you’d knock over carrying a tree twice your height.”

“Oho,” she playfully glared, “you think you’re _so_ funny, teasing the short girl, huh? Not all of us can be two meters tall and thin as a rail.”

“Thin? _Thin?_ ” He flexed. Even through the coat, his muscles were noticeable. Marinette swallowed hard and had to bite her tongue. Adrien jokingly kissed his bicep. “These guns are _not_ thin.”

She giggled, “I take it back. I take it back!”

He fell into comfortable line with her and they started perusing the rows of trees. “You know, now that we’re here, I think a live tree would be perfect for Nino’s apartment. He doesn’t have any decorations up at all.”

“That’d be nice!” Marinette said. 

“But, I’m no good at picking these kinds of things out. Tell you what—you pick out the trees, and I’ll help you get them home.”

Marinette’s heart did a little leap. “That’d be great,” she responded, trying not to be overeager. _He has a girlfriend. He’s not staying in Paris. Picking out trees is not a date. You’re totally over him; have been for years._

“So,” Adrien continued, “what kinds of things should I be looking for in a Christmas Tree?”

Marinette told him about picking out the right size of tree, and how to find one that looked even from all angles, but then, she held up her hand. “The most important thing, though, is—” and she buried her face in the needles of a spruce beside her and inhaled, “does it smell good?”

“Does it smell good?” Adrien repeated with interest.

“Super important,” she nodded fervently. “Try it.”

Adrien leaned in next to Marinette so suddenly that their cheeks brushed. He made a show of smelling the tree, and Marinette was grateful he was focused on that, because her face flamed red. He was just so close and so warm, she was having a hard time focusing on the tree. “Oh,” he said headily after backing away from the spruce, “I see what you mean.”

“Half the point of getting a live tree is to fill your home with fresh pine fragrance, so find a good one,” she insisted. 

He gave her a two-fingered salute that was achingly familiar and the two started pacing the rows in search of perfect Christmas trees. “Too short.” “Too wide.” “Too big.” On and on they went, laughing and smelling and searching. Finally, Marinette rounded a corner and her eyes popped. There it was—just the right height and width, full branches all the way to the bottom, and emitting a heavenly pine fragrance. “Oh Adrien,” she sighed, “I think I’ve found it.”

“Me too,” he said from a few paces behind her. Surprised, she turned to see the tree he was looking at. 

“Wait,” she asked, following his line of vision, “ _that_ one?” 

He was parked in front of a scrawny, sad tree that had already lost half its needles. He turned slowly to face her with a delighted grin on his face, “Yes, this one.”

“But it’s tiny! And dry as a bone!”

“Hey,” he protested, walking forward and cupping his hands around the tree as if he were covering its nonexistent ears, “you’re going to hurt her feelings!”

“ _Her_ feelings?”

“Yes, so if you don’t mind, keep your negative opinions to yourself. Clairece and I are going to the front to check out.”

Marinette stifled a laugh behind her glove, “Oh, you are, are you? Well. Far be it from me to get between you and _Clairece_.” 

Adrien playfully picked up his pitiful tree. “Which was the one you wanted? Oh, _that_ one? Well then. I guess we all have our opinions.”

Marinette was struggling to maintain her composure. She hoisted the tree she’d picked out, but was glad Adrien was there, because it really was quite awkward to carry. The two of them dragged the trees to the money box at the front. After they both paid the owner of the lot, they headed back to Nino’s apartment with trees balanced over their shoulders. They carefully stashed Marinette’s tree in a safe place while they set up Nino’s tree.

“Alright, does Nino have a tree stand?” Marinette asked. 

Adrien gave her a look, “The guy doesn’t even have a mixer. I doubt he has a tree stand.”

“Good point. Well, we need to keep the tree in water so it doesn’t die. Doesn’t die more than it already has, that is,” Marinette teased.

“Hey! Apologize!”

“Sorry, Clairece,” Marinette moaned. 

“Will a bucket do?” Adrien asked, poking through Nino’s cleaning supplies and extracting a small blue mop bucket. 

“It’s better than nothing,” Marinette acknowledged. Adrien filled the bucket with water and they plopped the tree in. It shed a few needles in the process. Nino did have a few strings of Christmas lights in a box containing old party supplies, probably from one of his DJing gigs. Adrien wound the lights carefully around the branches of the wobbly tree. “Perfect,” Marinette smiled. “How about some decorations?”

The two looked around the apartment. “Maybe we should go buy something,” Adrien mused.

“Buy decorations, when we’re doing such a good job winging it? Clairece is disappointed in your lack of creativity, Adrien.”

He huffed, “She is not, she loves me just the way I am!”

“I’m sure she does,” Marinette giggled. “Just like I do.” Adrien’s head snapped toward her in surprise. Marinette started to backpedal, but she bumped into Nino’s couch and fell into the pillowy depths of Adrien’s makeshift bed. “Oh!” she cried.

“Don’t worry, my fair maiden, I’m coming to your rescue!” Adrien announced and flopped on the couch next to Marinette. His arms flung wide and one landed across her shoulders unceremoniously. The two looked at the lit up tree, Marinette’s cheeks overheating, for a few minutes. “So,” Adrien started, “decorations…”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with old school,” Marinette smiled, trying not to make anything of the way his hand was still dangling over her arm or how warm his body was next to hers. “Popcorn chains, hand cut paper snowflakes, ribbons or bows. Let’s see what we can find around the apartment.” She really didn’t want him to stand up and start rustling up supplies, but Marinette knew the moment couldn’t last. Nino had a few bags of microwave popcorn, and Marinette always kept a needle and thread in her purse, and soon they found themselves back on the couch with the popcorn bowl nestled between their thighs. Marinette was very good at stringing popcorn; Adrien was not. Neither of them minded much. With their hands busy, Adrien struck up a conversation.

“So, I don’t mean to pry, but… your father… when was his diagnosis?”

Marinette bit her lip, “Earlier this year. We’re glad they caught it in a routine check-up. Still, it’s been pretty scary. Nobody expects to hear the word ‘cancer’ come from their doctor’s lips, you know?”

“I’m sure.”

“But we’re grateful for an early diagnosis and treatments. I’m sure…” her voice halted for a moment, “I’m sure you would have preferred that to years of not knowing.” Adrien stiffened beside her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he shook his head ardently, “it’s ok. I want to talk about my mother. Nobody ever talks to me about my mother. It’s almost as if she’s still missing—they just skirt around the topic, assuming I don’t want to remember her, but I do.”

Marinette smiled tenderly, “Tell me about her?”

The frown melted from Adrien’s face, “She loved this time of year. She didn’t have a very warm childhood, from what I can gather. There were a lot of expectations on her; my grandparents were austere people.” Marinette thought that sounded familiar. “But every year at Christmas time, they’d go on a trip, somewhere exotic, and my mother and Aunt Amelie would get to go along. She loved traveling and seeing the world. She was so smart and funny.”

“I’m sure you miss her terribly.”

“Yes,” he breathed, “but… it’s ok. It’s better knowing where she is than still wondering what happened.”

Marinette leaned into Adrien’s side so their shoulders were touching lightly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when—when H-Hawkmoth went to jail. I should have reached out more.”

Adrien shook his head once, “It wasn’t your fault, Marinette.”

Wasn’t it though? It was Ladybug and Chat Noir who defeated the supervillain. It was her that unmasked Hawkmoth and her that carted Gabriel Agreste off to prison. It was her that ruined Adrien’s life forever. Of course, she couldn’t say that, but she knew it. Deep down, she knew that she was the cause of his pain. “But I could have done something more. At least called you more often, or something. You know, just been a friend.”

He pursed his lips and shook his head again, “You _were_ a friend. A very good friend.”

“Or I could have chased down Ladybug, make her stop, or something—”

“ _What?”_ Adrien snapped, turning to look at Marinette more closely, “What are you saying, stop Ladybug?”

Marinette looked at her string of popcorn, “I just thought you were angry with her for ruining your family and everything.”

“Are you kidding me? Heavens no! Ladybug saved my life! My family… what a joke! My mother was dead for a while before we found her, and my father… well, even without a mask he was a villain. He was cold, calculating, and cruel. It’s taken me years of intense therapy to see it, but he was a monster, Marinette. Ladybug saved me from that world.”

“But you had to leave—”

“I left because the memories were too fresh and too painful, not because of Ladybug and certainly not because of you.”

Marinette bit back tears. For so long, she’d hated herself for hurting Adrien. But, apparently, it hadn’t hurt him. Or rather, it had hurt him, but not like the uprooting she’d accused herself of, but more like pruning a tree. She’d helped him get out of a toxic situation and clear unhealthy debris from his life, so that he could grow back stronger and better. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive herself, but hearing that he didn’t hate her, with or without her mask, was a weight lifted from Marinette’s chest. “I’m glad,” she muttered simply.

“Ouch!”

Marinette jumped at Adrien’s unexpected outcry. He was sucking his finger. “Sorry, just stabbed myself with a needle.”

“Oh!” Marinette giggled, “Do you need a bandage?”

He checked his finger, which wasn’t bleeding. “I don’t think so. It’ll just be sore for a few days. We’ll probably have to amputate later, but I’ll survive.” She rolled her eyes. He saw the long string of popcorn Marinette had already strung and compared it to the couple dozen pieces he’d managed. “Whoa, how’d you do that? And without pricking your finger once?”

She stood up and started gathering the popcorn string carefully, “I _did_ prick my finger; several times, actually. I’m just not a baby about it.”

“A baby?” he pretended to be wounded, “Did you hear what she called me, Clairece? A _baby!_ ” Marinette stuck her tongue out at Adrien and marched to the tree. She started swirling the popcorn strands around the branches. Adrien gave up on his strand and stood to help her. “Inquiring minds want to know,” he pressed on, “how do you practice stringing popcorn enough to become an expert, as you clearly are?”

“Whoever said I was stringing popcorn?”

“If not popcorn, then what?”

“Pearls, mostly.”

“Pearls?” Adrien queried with a surprised tone. 

Marinette closed her eyes and smiled at the memory, “It was for my senior project—a wedding dress. I had thousands of tiny pearls that I hand-stitched on mine.”

He seemed even more surprised at this answer than he’d been before. “Really? Can I see it?”

She looked at him, “You want to see the wedding dress I made for a school project?”

He grinned quirkily, “If I remember correctly, you’ve got an incredible talent in fashion. I want to see _everything_ you’ve made.”

She blinked rapidly, “I… um… it’s not done, though. I left.”

Adrien smiled and his fingers brushed hers as he helped her string the popcorn on the tree, “I don’t care. I still want to see it.”

She gnawed on her lower lip. “Maybe.” 

Marinette and Adrien worked on decorating the decrepit little tree for another hour, then hauled Marinette’s tree back to the bakery. After getting it set up, Marinette knew it was late in the afternoon. “I’m sorry,” she blurted when she saw the time, “I’ve taken up your whole day!”

He rubbed the back of his neck and grinned, “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Shoot,” she said, scuffing her toe on the ground, “you’re probably really late for something important.”

“Wait, you thought I was upset? Heck no, I’ve been having so much fun with you, Marinette!”

She looked up and her face flamed bright red. “Really?”

“Really! Though, it is, unfortunately, time for me to be going. But,” he added as an afterthought, tapping his chin, “I still really want to see your designs.”

“Oh,” she gulped, “well, I guess if you have a few minutes, come on up.” Marinette led the way to her old bedroom, which was almost identical to when they’d been in school together, though now there was a full rack of clothes in a corner, and her rickety old computer had been replaced by a sleek drawing tablet, and the chaise was gone and instead a large light table was in the middle of the room, covered in even more projects. “Welcome to my workspace,” she said with a small smile. “When I left ESMOD, I set up shop here so that I could keep up my craft. The finished pieces are over here.”

He marched straight for the rack of clothes and started rifling through them. Most were women’s garments—a lovely red gown, a gold and silver blouse, a pair of women’s slacks, but then there was a men’s cashmere sweater in the same color as his favorite scarf. “Oh,” he sighed as he pulled the sweater out, “This is stunning.”

“Thanks, it took me forever to get the cables knitted, but mainly because I struggled with keeping my stitches even. I have a tendency to slowly get tighter and tighter in my stitching, and then I have to undo it all and redo several rows… anyway…”

“You _knitted_ this?”

“Well, yeah, this is my finished work rack,” she smirked. “I mean, you’re still working in the industry, certainly you’ve worn hand knitted sweaters before.”

He shook his head, “Not really. By the time I’m modeling an item, it’s ready for the rack. It’s been a long time since I’ve done runway, and even then, hand knitting is pretty rare. Especially this much, and this high quality. Can I try it on?”

Marinette contained her squeal and merely nodded, “S-sure.” Adrien took the sweater from the hanger and carefully pulled it on, then ran his fingers over the soft sleeves. 

“Wow. Just… _wow,_ ” he repeated. “This is incredible.”

“Yeah,” Marinette breathed, completely stunned at how beautiful he was. The sweater fit him perfectly, the collar stood up nicely, and the color made his skin look like he was glowing. _He has a girlfriend._ “It’s not fair how good that looks on you,” she whined, then circled around him checking for loose threads and fit. “I can’t even find a flaw. That’s incredible.”

“Well, I _am_ a model,” he chuckled.

“Have you ever been to a shoot where something fits you perfectly?”

“No,” he admitted. Last-second alterations, sometimes even being sewn into an outfit, was pretty common. 

“Me neither,” she decreed, as if that settled the matter. “I guess there’s only one thing to do. You’re going to have to keep that sweater. It’s too perfect to hang back up on the rack.”

“Oh, Marinette,” she shook his beautiful blonde head, “I couldn’t. This is your school project!”

“Was,” she noted somewhat sadly. “But I’ve already been graded. It’s not like it’s doing any good on my rack now. Please, please keep it. It looks so good on you.”

He hugged himself again, relishing in the warmth and softness. “Ok,” he consented, “but you have to let me make it up to you.”

She raised an eyebrow, “What do you have in mind?”

He thought for a second, “Ice skating. No, sledding! No. Both. Both for sure.”

She laughed, “Both? That’s hardly necessary—”

“Both, I insist. And lunch.”

She gulped, her knees wobbling. _Hold it together, Marinette. He just wants to say thank you. He has a girlfriend._ “Alright,” she managed without her voice breaking.

“Although, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork tomorrow. How about the day after that?”

“S-sure,” she said. Crumb. Her voice was betraying her. “I’d make that very lunch. I mean, I’d like that very much!” Two tries wasn’t bad. 

“Alright, it’s a date,” he said with a wink. “I’ll pick you up after breakfast, then. We’ll see what we have time for.”

“Sounds great!” A date. He’d said date. He was skipping to the door. Marinette followed him out and waved goodbye but was far too overwhelmed to make any more coherent words that day. She retreated to her bedroom, where Tikki immediately came out of hiding and gave her a hug.

“You’ve got a date with Adrien!”

“I know,” Marinette sighed. “But it’s not a real date. I mean, it can’t be. He’s got that girlfriend in New York!”

“Are you going to admit you still have feelings for him, at least?”

Marinette bit her lip. It’d been painful enough to move past him in the first place. “I dunno, Tikki. But, I will admit that today was one of the best days of my life. There are still so many questions, but I know that I’m glad that Adrien is still my friend, and no matter what happens in the future, I’m glad I had today.”


	5. To you, from me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying my story so far! I'm having a lot of fun writing it! 
> 
> Angst warning: in this chapter, we'll see just how hurt Adrien really is. There's a lot of self-flagellation, but it'll be ok in the end. There's no profanity, physical self-harm, or anything other than some bitter thoughts, but I thought I'd put up the notice, just in case.

“So,” Adrien stretched, his shoulders popping, “that should take care of the mansion, right?”

“Yes,” his lawyer said as she passed the papers to Adrien’s cousin, Felix. “The sale will be finalized in a few days, and that’s all.”

Felix pursed his lips, the scar on his cheek that he’d picked up during their final year in Lycee turning white as he stretched it, “Very good. I must admit, Adrien, I’m impressed. I thought you’d put up more of a fuss.”

Adrien gritted his teeth. “Why? It’s not like I live there anymore, or like I ever truly felt like home there.”

“Well,” Felix stood up, smirking, “it will be good to get the mansion back in the hands of the Graham de Vanily family, where it belongs.”

Adrien couldn’t take it anymore. He stood and glared at his cousin, “It always _was_ in the hands of the Graham de Vanily family.”

Felix leveled a look that could kill at Adrien, “Don’t be asinine, Adrien. Defensiveness isn’t a good color on you.” Felix gathered the last of the paperwork from the table, tapped it into line, and then nodded at the team of lawyers and realtors that still sat. “I will see you all later.”

“Gooday, Monsieur Graham de Vanily.” And with that, Felix strode from the room. 

It took several minutes for Adrien to cool the anger threatening to spill out. He looked at his lawyer, “Did I do the right thing, selling it to him?”

The lawyer shrugged, “He certainly offered a fair price, and considering you didn’t want to keep it…”

“I know. I just… nevermind.” Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose. Adrien tried to like his cousin. He really did. But Felix was… Felix. Adrien was glad this was almost over. 

The lawyer’s assistant called a taxi for Adrien, and he pulled out the box of macarons Marinette had given him and his phone while he waited. He sunk his teeth into a vanilla bean macaron speckled with tiny black flecks of vanilla bean caviar that popped as he chewed, exploding with flavor in his mouth. The meringue shells were delicate and chewy, but the vanilla curd in the middle was light as air and soft as velvet. _Oh wow,_ he sighed audibly as he ate a second one, and waited until he’d swallowed to look back at his phone, not wanting any distractions from the delicacy in his hand. 

Adrien flipped to the news. Nadja Chamack had made lead anchor, he noted with a smile. She was talking about some foreign affairs, and then a story about a new hospital being built, and then, Adrien’s heart skipped a beat as Nadja stated professionally, “In other exciting news, the Children’s Center welcomed a very special volunteer today—Paris’ own original superheroine, Ladybug! Ever since she and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth seven years ago, her duties have changed, but her devotion to the city hasn’t. Brent Alma has more.”

Brent Alma’s voiceover continued as the footage switched to the girl—now woman—who had captivated Adrien’s world for so long. Ladybug looked exactly as Adrien remembered her: beautiful, strong, kind, brave… The Children’s Center seemed to be a place for orphans or kids with incarcerated parents, and Ladybug was pictured playing with the children, reading to them, and then braiding one girl’s hair. Adrien lost track of what Brent was saying in his voice over, he was so mesmerized at Ladybug’s unexpected appearance. But then, Brent turned the microphone to her, and Adrien was all ears, “I try to help out whenever I can. These kids are so brave and special, they deserve a treat for Christmas! There’s a Winter Gala fundraiser on December twenty-third, and we invite everyone to attend, or even just send a donation. Every bit helps!”

“What about you, Ladybug, how will you be celebrating Christmas?”

“You mean, other than helping my cute friends here?” Ladybug tapped the nose of the kid closest to her. The child giggled. “I plan to spend time with friends and family, like every year.”

“What about Chat Noir, have you heard from him?”

A lump rose in Adrien’s throat. Ladybug looked uncomfortable, “I’m sure Chat Noir is safe and well.”

“Do you miss him?”

She blinked rapidly, “Of course I miss him. How could I not? He was my best friend and an amazing partner.”

“Do you know where he went, or where he is now?”

She smiled sadly. Adrien wanted to reach through the screen and wrap her in his arms, and tell her that he was safe, that he was there, that he was listening. “Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you that. I’m sure he had his reasons for stepping down.”

“If you could send him a message, what would you say?”

“I’d tell him that I missed him and that I hope he has an excellent Christmas. But I think we’re off the mark. The Children’s Center needs our support, and I know Paris will do a great job rising to the occasion. Remember, you don’t need to wait until the twenty-third to give; if you have a gift, leave it under the big Christmas tree in front of the Children’s Center. We’re all excited to share this special season with the most vulnerable and precious among us! Bug out!” Ladybug zipped off.

“Well, there you have it folks, from our spotted superheroine herself.”

Adrien shut off his phone, overcome with a mix of emotions. His heart was racing after seeing Ladybug, if only through a screen. She was still here, still active, still helping others. His stomach was a ball of knots as he re-examined the last seven years without his Miraculous. He’d left so quickly that he really hadn’t thought through the repercussions. And, of course, as soon as he’d made it to the ground of the Eiffel tower on that fateful day, there was no going back. He didn’t know where Ladybug was or how to get a hold of her, so asking for his Miraculous back was impossible. There had been so many nights— _so_ many—where he’d cried himself to sleep, wishing he could go back and undo that choice, where he wished he’d revealed himself to Ladybug, or just sucked it up and held onto his Miraculous. He figured he probably would’ve been just fine. He could have managed. He could have held it together, most likely. He could have kept his face impassive—he had plenty of practice after his years of modeling—while he helped Ladybug cart his own father away to prison. He could have bit his tongue while she searched for Adrien to break the bad news that his mother had died and been discovered in Hawkmoth’s lair. He could have comforted Ladybug while _she_ was struggling through the aftermath of the final battle. He could have been professional and supportive. But he had been weak and had retreated to a veil of privacy and had screamed into the void. He’d torn his father’s office to shreds and raged against everything that reminded him of that odious man. He’d pulled himself from University and broken up with Kagami and abandoned Paris and left _everything_ and run as fast as he could to a place where he’d never even have to hear his father’s name. Never mind that he quickly realized he needed the connections and the money the _Gabriel_ brand offered and ended up under his father’s commanding thumb once more, just in New York rather than where he had friends still. Never mind that his escape was completely pointless; he left. He left Ladybug, he left Chat Noir, he left everything. He’d been weak.

She must hate him. She must absolutely despise him. No wonder she had so few words for the reporter—she _loathed_ him. He abandoned her when she needed him most. His weakness had left her alone and partnerless. Who cared that there hadn’t been another supervillain attack in all that time? That was beyond the point. What kind of superhero had he been, anyway, if at the first test, he’d caved and ran? 

Dang, she’d looked good though. Grown up, mature, beautiful. He didn’t long for her the way he had for years when he was a kid, but it did bring Adrien a measure of peace to see her look so vibrant. He imagined she probably had a boyfriend, or maybe was even married by now. He hoped she’d finally been able to seal the deal with that guy she’d always pined after. He knew his chances with Ladybug, which had never been very good, were now down to nil. But that was ok—he just wanted her to be happy, and she seemed that way. She seemed happy. 

She said she missed him, though. She missed Chat Noir. Adrien wiped his wet cheeks and looked back at his black phone screen. He wished there was a way to let her know that he still cared about her, and that he was ok, and that he wished her a Merry Christmas back. He pondered for a second, then remembered what she said about the tree in front of the Children’s Center. Adrien fished through the pile of papers he had, and found a blank piece of stationary. He started writing a note:

_Dear Little Bug,_

_It’s me, Chat Noir._

Why would she believe that? Proof. He needed proof.

_How can you know it’s me? I’m the only one who knows you’re madly clumsy, or at least were the first day we got our Miraculouses._

_I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I’m also really sorry I haven’t contacted you in seven years. Honestly, I didn’t know how. I’m mostly sorry I was so weak and left when you needed me most. You’re the best person I’ve ever met._

_I won’t ask for my Miraculous back—that ship has sailed, I know. I just hope you have found another partner that is worthy of you. I miss you too, but I’m safe and I’m getting better every day. I hope you can forgive me some day for abandoning you._

_Anyway, Merry Christmas. I hope, wherever you are, that you’re happy and your life is filled with love._

_From,_

_Chaton_

Adrien re-read his sloppy letter, and nearly pitched it in the trash. But then he remembered the sad smile on Ladybug’s face as she talked about him and how she missed him. “You owe it to her,” he whispered to himself. “You owe her this much.” 

There was a car horn outside and Adrien jumped; he’d forgotten about his taxi. He folded the letter up and penned Ladybug’s name on it. Once in the cab, he chewed the inside of his lip for a second, then confidently told the driver, “Please take me to the Children’s Center.” 

The cabbie nodded, and Adrien had to keep his fists clenched and his jaw snapped shut to stop him from changing his mind. Eventually, a magnificent Christmas tree appeared, and the taxi dropped him off. He recognized this tree—he’d nearly cataclysmed it the first Christmas without his mother. Wow, it felt like a lifetime ago. He’d had so much pent up anger and pain. He _still_ had a lot of that, but it was changing. Now, it was mostly regret and hurt. He frowned bitterly as he realized how harsh he was being to himself, then smirked as he imagined talking to his therapist about all this. _“Adrien,”_ his doctor would say, _“you need to forgive yourself. Let’s do some power poses and self-affirmations.”_ And granted, Adrien knew there was truth in that—he _did_ need to forgive himself, but at this moment, all he could think about was Ladybug and repenting of all his mistakes. He wished he could talk to her and explain why he’d left and let her know it wasn’t her fault. He wished many things, none of which he could have. 

Adrien mulled around the Christmas tree for a long time, the letter growing cold in his hand. It was so small and insignificant. It couldn’t undo the years of pain he’d caused. But, eventually, he realized it was all he had, and something was better than nothing. He took a breath and stuck the letter under the tree, buried where nobody could see. Then, he quickly backed away to a bench several meters off. The sun had set several hours previous, and the bench was dark and secluded. He sat down and stared at the tree and tried to regain control of his emotions. 

Adrien thought he heard a sound that he’d never expected to hear again in his life. He blinked rapidly and craned his neck. There it was again—and again! It wasn’t wishful thinking; it was really the zip-zip-zip of Ladybug’s yo-yo! Adrien’s stomach plummeted to his feet and his forehead erupted in sweat. He wasn’t ready to talk to her. He wasn’t ready to face any of this! Would she find his note? Probably not—he’d buried it pretty deep. He looked up instinctively, and saw her come flying over the rooftops, weighed down with a stack of gifts. _Oh._ There she was, as magnificent as ever, and here he was, still nothing but a shadow. 

Of course, she didn’t see him, seated in his coat and scarf and hat on the dark bench. His mouth stopped working and he froze. She landed. Her hips swayed as she walked toward the tree. He couldn’t breathe as he watched her. She put the gifts under the tree, then started walking around the tree and surveying the other gifts that had just started accumulating with pride. Adrien thought about calling out to her, but she paused and looked up and down the street. What was she doing? She looked nervous. Why was she nervous? She opened her yo-yo and Adrien half expected a white butterfly to fly out and for her to wave it goodbye, but instead, she was retrieving something he couldn’t make out. Whatever it was was small and red. She glanced up and down the road one more time, then held the object to her chest for a second. Then, she pressed it to her lips, shoved it deep under the tree, and then zipped off. She was gone again. He’d blown another opportunity to see her. 

Kicking himself, Adrien pried himself from the bench and walked up to the tree. It was sheer, morbid curiosity that made him look at what Ladybug had left there, and yes, he did chuckle grimly as the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” swam through his head, but something had been important enough to her to covertly leave it here and even kiss it goodbye. Adrien was dying to know what that was.

He had to get on his knees to find the tiny red object, but there it was: an envelope with little black polka dots, and across the front was written: “To Chat Noir.” His heart stopped beating. Shaking like a leaf, Adrien extracted the letter and stumbled backwards into the light of the Christmas tree. His fingers barely had enough strength to open the envelope and pull out the letter, and his eyes were brimming with tears at her neat handwriting before he even made it past the first line:

_Dearest Chat Noir,_

_Here we are again, another Christmas, another anniversary of the day we retrieved the butterfly miraculous and you left. Another year has gone by without you, and I’m writing yet another letter and wondering if you’ll ever get it, or any of the others. Probably not, I tell myself. I hope that means only good things._

_This year has been a hard one for me. I’ve missed you more than ever. As things have been hard in my personal life, though, I feel like I understand you more than ever as well. I still don’t know why you needed to go, but this year has taught me all about personal hardships and I know it must have been something paw-sitively horrific for you to leave. My heart breaks for you still, Chat. I know you would not have left under anything short of life-ending, and while I completely support that choice and hope that wherever you are, that you are at peace, I still wish I could have been there to hold you through that horrible thing. This letter will have to suffice. I’ve sealed it with a hug and a kiss. Please know that’s for you. I have many regrets from all the time we spent together, but the biggest of all is that I never gave you the love you needed. No no, don’t get any silly ideas—wink wink. I just mean that I have finally realized how much you needed a friend, and I fear I wasn’t a very good one. I’m so sorry. Please take my affection now and allow me to tell you what you mean to me._

_You are, and always have been, my best friend. I will never forget how we could fight against evil, side-by-side, with hardly a word of coordination, and you were always there. You never missed a beat. You were braver and stronger than I ever was. And yet, you kept a smile on your face. I was too short-sighted as a teenage girl to understand how important your jokes and your puns really were. It kept things in perspective and helped so many victims let go of the negative emotions that had gotten them akumatized in the first place. We needed that fun dynamic so desperately, and I was so bent on being this perfect model of a superhero like I saw on television, that I never understood the good a little humort could do. You were a friend to all—especially to me, even when your heart was breaking. While it still kills me to know that I was to blame for a good deal of that heartbreak, I thank you. I thank you for being the hero I never was. I wish I would have thanked you every day I saw you. That’s the biggest regret I have—I didn’t say thank you enough. I didn’t let you know how much I did care about you, and how much I valued our friendship. Thank you, my amazing Kitty, Thank you._

_Every year I tell you a little bit about what’s going on with me. I know I said this has been a tough year—and it has, but I have hope. I’m sure you remember that there was a boy I was in love with all those years ago. Well, he’s been out of my life for some time, but just this week, he came back. He’s still with someone else, and I’m ok with that. But it’s really great to reconnect with friends and rebuild old relationships. It makes me hopeful that someday you’ll come back to me, Chaton._

_I miss you, and my Christmas wish is, that wherever you are, you are safe. I hope the demons that drove you away are being battled, and that you are filled with assurance that, for whatever it is worth, I love you with all my heart. You deserve all the love in the world, Chat. I forgive you for leaving, as I understand that was probably the only option to keep you safe. I hope you find peace and joy in your life. I hope you are happy and cracking jokes and terrible puns. I hope old friends come find you and new friends refresh your life with meaning. I hope you are successful in your career and that your hair is as fluffy as ever._

_Merry Christmas, Minou._

_With all my love,_

_Ladybug_

Adrien re-read the letter twice before he started walking. He’d finished it another six times by the time he made it back to Nino’s apartment. When his best friend saw his tear stained cheeks after Adrien stumbled inside, Nino gasped, “Dude! You ok?”

“Yeah,” Adrien said, tucking the spotted envelope in his jacket pocket, his face splitting with an enormous, watery smile, “Yeah, I’m great. For the first time in years, I’m really, really great.”


	6. The Ice Rink

“I guess I’m a little rusty,” Adrien laughed as Marinette helped him back to his skates for the third time that morning. The fuzzy bauble on the top of her baby pink hat bounced as she laughed.

“You’re going to be so sore, I’m afraid.” He stood up and brushed the ice shavings from his backside. “Here, hold on, just until you get your balance back.” Adrien took Marinette’s outstretched hand gladly. Her wooly mittens wrapped around his leather gloves, and she waited for him to lead off before gliding smoothly beside him. “There you go,” she said after a few meters forward, “yeah, now you’ve got it! Nice and slow, don’t rush it.”

Adrien shamelessly pulled Marinette in closer, took her arm, and wrapped it around his waist, while doing the same with his arm around her waist. He felt her stiffen beside her, but she didn’t pull away. Their hips brushed and Adrien relished her warmth beside him. He’d hardly been able to take his eyes off her since he’d picked her up at the bakery that morning. She was absolutely adorable in her matching coat, hat, and mittens, but it wasn’t just that that held Adrien’s attention. He’d woken up feeling lighter than he had in years, partly because of the sale of the mansion—getting out from under that burden was incredible—but mostly because of the letter from Ladybug. Knowing that she forgave him was beyond liberating. Adrien finally felt like he could move forward, and reconnecting with an old friend was at the top of his priority list. So, when Marinette had blushed lightly when he said she looked lovely, or when she offered her hand to him to keep him steady on his skates, he soaked it in. Perhaps he was being more affectionate than he should be, but he was starting to wonder if he’d ever really understood affection at all. Being with Marinette, even just two friends skating, was different than anything he’d experienced with Jacqueline. Marinette was so attentive and friendly, he just wanted to bask in her light as long as she would let him. The longer he was away from Jacqueline, the more he realized just how aloof and cold she’d always been. Marinette was just the opposite; she was a ray of pure sunshine that warmed Adrien to his very center and being near her was filling him up with joy in a way that he’d never experienced before. So, even if it didn’t last, today was about being with his adorable, tiny friend. “There you go,” she said encouragingly, and Adrien’s heart swelled. “You’re getting your footing!”

“It’s been a _long_ time since I ice skated. I think the last time I went was… wow, I think it was that time you and I went with Kagami and Luka.”

Marinette’s lips twitched but didn’t quite smile. “Oh? Yeah, I… I guess I forgot about that.”

Adrien frowned, “Really? I didn’t think you’d forget your first date with Luka.” Marinette made a little choking noise. She didn’t respond, so Adrien decided to change the subject. He winked at her cheekily, then let go of her waist. “Hey, watch this!” he pushed her hand out and twirled her once before pulling her back to his side. That made her giggle. He much preferred her giggles to the little choking sound she’d made before.

“Good job,” she grinned, “you didn’t even stumble!”

“You know,” he said pensively, “you’re really graceful on your skates. You must practice a lot.”

She blushed ever so slightly, “Not really. I mean, I go to the ice rink occasionally, and of course at Christmas time, but I don’t really practice. It’s just for fun.”

“Really? What _do_ you practice, then?”

“What do you mean?”

He twirled her again, covertly checking over her form, “You’re pretty athletic, but I don’t know any sports you participate in.”

“O-oh,” she hiccupped, and clasped her hand over her mouth, “n-nothing much. I’m pretty much a homebody.”

He studied her intently. “That’s so strange,” he said, genuinely confused. “I could have sworn—”

“I mean,” she babbled, shrugging, “I like to sew, I help at the bakery, and you know those bags of flour are heavy and kneading dough is quite the workout, and there’s a lot of stairs in my house, and when I was in school I always had to run across campus because I’m late a lot, but…”

Adrien was a supermodel. He knew the difference between running across campus and frequent, intense workouts. Marinette was definitely the latter. He was going to press the matter, but Marinette pulled away from his side. He immediately missed her warmth. “Um,” she said, “I’m kind of cold, and I need to use the bathroom. Quick break?”

“Of course,” he said, and guided the two of them to the nearest rink exit. “How about I go get us a couple cups of hot cocoa, and I’ll see you back here in a few?”

“Sounds great,” she said, snapping on her skate covers and waddling to the ladies’ room. Adrien watched Marinette until she disappeared, then made his way to the hot cocoa stand on the side of the rooftop rink. There was a decent line, and by the time Adrien had waited, ordered, paid, and decorated Mariette’s cup with whipped cream and sprinkles, Marinette was back on the ice. He stood by the entrance to the rink and watched her skate. Her motions were fluid and powerful, while maintaining the grace that had amazed him earlier. She made a lazy figure eight on the ice, then tucked in her arms to a mindboggling spin before taking off again. After another circuit of the rink, Marinette pulled off a stunning leap, spinning in the air, and landing on one blade. No, she wasn’t professional, but everything about her drew Adrien in. Smiling, he filled his lungs with air and prepared to call to her, only to blow it out in a hiss of surprise as Marinette skidded to a halt in a shower of ice shavings. She was looking at a different entrance to the ice, and her face had suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. Adrien followed her line of vision, and immediately recognized the tall, strong young man she was skating toward. He’d lost the blue tips on his hair and gained a goatee and a broad chest. Adrien was much too far away to hear what they were saying, but the look on Marinette’s face was easy enough to read. She was greeting him, he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Adrien didn’t know what to think or feel. His knee-jerk reaction was to skate across the ice and clock Luka in the face. But that didn’t make sense—Luka was his friend! Why was he feeling so hostile to a person who had only ever been kind to him? Adrien took a breath and squared his shoulders. Luka was a _good_ person. There was no need to be angry with him. Just as he determined that it was time to go say hello, Luka said something that made Marinette laugh, and the knee-jerk need to throttle the taller young man returned. 

Adrien scolded himself— _get a grip, Agreste! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous! Wait, am I jealous?_ _Shoot, what does that even mean?_ Why was he jealous of Luka? Because Marinette was with him? He sort of knew that. Dang, he should have checked if she was single before asking her out. He felt like a chump.

“Adrien!” her sweet voice called innocently. Adrien chewed the inside of his cheek and frowned to himself. “Adrien, look who I found!” He forced a smile on his face and nodded once as Marinette and Luka skated toward them. 

“Hey, Adrien,” Luka said softly.

“Hey,” Adrien responded simply, trying to be polite. 

“I was just telling Luka that you’re in town for a couple weeks and that maybe you will be able to come to the Winter Gala. Kitty Section’s playing of course, which is quite the feat considering their success this year—”

“Like I was going to tell you no, Mari,” Luka said, looking at Marinette fondly. 

She blushed as she looked at him. “I told you I didn’t want special treatment. _Please_ don’t tell me you gave up a big gig or a tour date for this.”

Luka shook his head, “Of course not. It’s great optics for the band, and we’ve got some new music we’re looking forward to trying out.” Luka winked at Adrien, “That’s our cover story, at least. I never could turn down Mari. I don’t think anyone can. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh,” Adrien choked, “y-yeah, I guess.”

“Well,” Luka said, patting Marinette on the shoulder and reaching his hand out to shake Adrien’s hand, “it was really good to see you both. I’m excited for the Gala. But there are some beautiful girls waiting for me, and I can’t leave them waiting.” Luka nodded at Adrien and Marinette once, and skated back to the other rink entrance. 

“Girls?” Adrien whispered after him, feeling the knee-jerk reaction returning. Marinette laughed, and Adrien was about to chase after Luka just as a pleasant-looking brunette skated out on the ice, holding the hand of a toddler struggling to stay upright on her pink skates. Luka met up with them, and Adrien’s confusion disappeared as he kissed the woman tenderly and scooped up the little girl in his arms. The resemblance between the two of them was uncanny—she was certainly Luka’s daughter. “Oh,” Adrien said, the knot in his stomach relaxing as understanding dawned, “his girls.” 

“Did you not hear about his wedding?” Marinette asked.

“I guess I must have missed it,” Adrien admitted sheepishly. “Oh, here’s your hot cocoa,” he said, and Marinette excitedly wrapped her little fingers around the cup. “I guess I missed a lot these last few years. I… I gotta admit, I thought you two were still dating.”

Her eyes popped, “Me and Luka?” she laughed and shook her head, “Naw, that was over almost before it began. He’s such a good man, and I will love him until my dying day, but not in a romantic sense. Besides, Catrine’s his soul mate. When he met her, it was like the world stopped spinning around the sun, and it started spinning around her instead.”

“Is that what happened then, he met Catrine and left you?”

Marinette blinked and shook her head, “No, we’d broken up a long time before that.”

“When was that?”

She gulped and looked at her cup, “When I realized I was never going to love him like he needed; like he deserved.” 

“Oh,” Adrien said, suddenly feeling stupid, like he’d crossed a boundary. “I… I’m sorry. I guess it’s better to realize that before it goes on too long.” She merely shrugged. “What about after Luka? Certainly you’ve dated other people. Are dating other people.”

She scoffed and snorted into her hot cocoa, “Yeah, right. Me, date? Nope, living free and in the wild.”

“Really?” he asked, trying to mask his enthusiasm with incredulity. 

“I thought I told you, I’m way too busy with school and now Papa and the bakery—dating is pretty low on the priority list.”

Adrien didn’t know why, but this information made him extremely happy. He watched Luka with his family as they skated, and suddenly felt very warm. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing well.” But Adrien knew he was toeing an invisible yet important line with all these questions. She was going to be suspicious. “What about everyone else? Any other juicy gossip I’ve missed in the last seven years?”

“Well,” she pondered, “Alix tried out for the Olympic roller blading team, Ivan and Mylene got married a few months after graduation and moved to Marseille, and of course, Nino and Alya have been dating _forever_.”

Adrien laughed at the way she rolled her eyes. “You don’t approve?”

“Heavens no,” she clarified, “I just can’t believe Nino hasn’t popped the question yet.”

“Well,” Adrien puffed out his chest in defense of his friend, silently grateful the jealousy that had threatened to ruin his day was long gone and he was finding his stride again, “Alya has been gone for months to University, and he’s got his DJ business that’s taking off—give the poor guy a break.”

She deadpanned at him, “A break. You think he needs a break. A guy who has been dating the same girl for over ten years, who is absolutely perfect for him, needs _more_ time? Sheesh, Adrien, whose side are you on here?”

He laughed again into his hot chocolate cup, and a bubble of whipped cream popped on his upper lip, leaving a little streak of white on there. Marinette laughed and used the napkin in her hand to clean off his whipped cream mustache. As her fingers brushed his lips, he leaned into her warmth a bit. Marinette flushed. “Uh, ready to skate some more?” she offered.

“Sure,” Adrien grinned and finished off his hot chocolate. He held out his hand for her and she hesitantly took it, before they struck out on the ice together. 

It was about halfway around the rink that Marinette gasped and looked down at Adrien’s feet, “You’re so much more confident now! That’s great!”

“Oh, um, yeah, must be all the amazing training you’re giving me!” Adrien grinned.

Marinette gave Adrien a sideways look, then pushed off away from him, turned a quick 180, and smirked as she nearly crashed into a group of people. Adrien didn’t have time to register the way her eyebrow was lifted, or the way she was leaning backward, or the way she had turned right as they approached the much slower skaters. All he knew was that Marinette was moving far too fast and was going backwards, and that she was going to plow into a group of unsuspecting kids. “Marinette!” he yelped in shock and he sprung into action. He was by her side in half a second, scooping her up by her narrow waist and spinning on his skates to save both her and the kids. “Watch where you’re going!” he half scolded, half laughed. 

Her eyes were wide pools of pure blue. “I knew it,” she muttered.

“Knew what?” he said, setting her gently back on her skates and resuming their pace.

“You _can_ skate. You were faking, weren’t you? Earlier?”

“Oh, that… um…” Adrien tugged at the blue scarf around his neck, “yeah, I uh… I was out of practice?”

She raised another eyebrow, folded her arms, and shook her head, “No, you were pretending to be a lousy skater. For what… to make me look like an idiot as I coddled you along?”

“What? No! Heavens no! I…” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I think you’re a great teacher. But, would it sound even worse if I told you that I pretended to be a bad skater so you’d stay close by?” _And hold hands. And put your arm around my waist. And share some of that sunshine with me._

Her eyes widened in surprise, and the incredulous frown on her face slowly morphed into a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Adrien smiled, “I like hanging out with you, Marinette. You’re like this little ball of sunshine. It’s been too long since I had something like that in my life.”

She blushed bright red, but the smile widened. “I like hanging out with you too, Adrien,” she responded, but then bit her lip in clear hesitation. Adrien didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of her hesitating or holding back. A new song came over the rink loudspeakers—the first few bars of a warm and rich rendition of _The Christmas Song_ , and Adrien took this moment to reach out his hand.

“Come, skate with me? I promise I won’t fall again. At least, not on purpose.”

She looked down, then met his gaze with a penetrating look of her own. Adrien’s heart accelerated as she slipped her hand in his and the two took off. It was different, though. With his clumsy skater routine dropped, he realized it was now up to him to prove how good he actually could be. They started off in a straight line, but after a few meters, Adrien slipped one hand around Marinette’s waist and turned backwards so that he was in a classic dancing position. That’s when something unexpected and amazing happened—the two stared moving as one. Adrien twirled Marinette and she gracefully spun. He released her hand and her motions echoed his until they met back up perfectly. He tucked his arms around her and she followed his lead perfectly. The synergy was electric, almost as if they’d practiced this routine hundreds of times. During one synchronous move, Adrien felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. They weren’t skating so well because he was a good leader, this was more instinctual, like muscle memory. But Adrien and Marinette hadn’t skated together ever! Why was this so effortless? As the music reached the final chorus, Adrien closed his eyes and moved closer to Marinette. He twirled her so her back was against his chest, and both her hands were in his. The bauble on her hat tickled his nose, and feeling bolder than was safe, Adrien hitched his hands on Marinette’s hips and lifted her off the ground. She gracefully arched her back over his head as he twirled slowly on the spot, and then in one quick motion, he flipped Marinette in the air. She didn’t tense up at all, she just spun in the air and held out her arms so he could catch her by the armpits and then she locked her hands behind his neck. He cradled her waist with one arm and set her back on the ice, but he continued the downward motion and ended the song in a low, elegant dip, bowing to one knee so she could slide backward until the bauble on her hat brushed the ice. Adrien’s face was so close to hers that her panting breath was warming his nose. She was staring at him, her glossy lips parted ever so slightly, her eyes wide with surprise and understanding. Their synchronicity had hypnotized them both. Adrien was drawn to her pink cheeks and delicate lips. He leaned in, the headiness from the skate and the music overwhelming his senses. He was completely lost in her and had no intention to ever find himself again. He was getting closer and closer. Her eyes fluttered shut. His mouth was half a centimeter from hers. “How did you do that?” she muttered.

“Do what?” he responded softly, not backing away from Marinette’s inviting lips.

“Skate like that?” She was leaving his side. She was getting back to his feet and taking off at a leisurely pace again. Adrien pouted. He’d almost kissed her! He didn’t want to lose her now. “I mean, I knew you were a better skater than you let on, but that was like… that was amazing,” she mused.

Adrien wasn’t sure what had transpired between the two of them either. He’d been just as surprised as she was to find this connection between them, as if they’d been skating partners for years. “I don’t know. I liked it,” he replied honestly. 

“Me too,” she whispered hesitantly, and again, Adrien was frustrated at her hesitation. He sensed that she was keeping him at arm’s length, but he didn’t know why. Was she not feeling the same pull that he was? Maybe the attraction was purely one sided. Adrien fretted his lower lip in confusion. She kept blushing and smiling at all the right times. Had Adrien been away from reality so long that he’d misread all of Marinette’s signals? He’d really thought she was interested in him as much as he was in her. “Um,” she said, pulling Adrien from his reverie, “I promised my Maman I’d bring home some noodles for the soup she’s making tonight, and it’s getting late—” she started.

Adrien winked, trying to resume the playful banter she’d been enjoying earlier. Maybe he’d been too forward. That was ok; Adrien had time. He’d enjoyed being with Marinette enough that he was in no rush. “I seem to remember you promising me _both_ ice skating _and_ sledding.”

She bit her lower lip and looked down, “Yeah, I guess I did promise that. It’s just… Papa and…”

“Hey,” he said, lifting her chin with one finger, and brushing her cheek with his thumb, “it’s totally fine. I’m so impressed with all you do to help others, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If your family needs you, then that’s that.”

“Thanks for understanding, Adrien.”

“How does tomorrow look?”

“Tomorrow? Um, tomorrow I have a lot going on during the day—”

“Night then?”

“Well, I guess my schedule’s pretty clear, but I—”

“Ok, tomorrow evening,” Adrien grinned. “Can I at least walk you home?”

“Oh, well, I was going to go to the market and then I needed to stop at Alya’s now that she’s home for Christmas and…”

“Ok, I get it, you’re busy,” he winked. “Thanks for the skate,” he grinned, then brazenly bowed, took her hand, and planted a soft kiss to her knuckles. When he finished, he looked up into her shocked face. She didn’t look angry or hesitant, just surprised. “Have a lovely evening, Princess!”

“Y-ye-yeah,” she managed weakly, “you too.” Then, with a dazed look plastered to her face, Marinette skated off to the exit. Adrien watched her go, feeling warm and excited, but also concerned. He wanted Marinette to like him. As he made this realization, Adrien laughed to himself. He felt giddy and nervous and wild with anticipation. Even if he could only return a small reflection of the sunlight she exuded, he wanted to do that. And boy, if she liked him back, even just a little bit, well… this might very well be the best Christmas Adrien had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all enjoying this story so far! Thank you all for reading, for your support, and your kindness. It means the world!


	7. The Prodigal BFF

Marinette had been jumpy all day. First, she’d dropped a whole tray of spritz cookies, then she’d knocked over a bottle of ink when she had been working on her Winter Gala decorations and ruined her pants, and then she tripped over thin air and nearly knocked Monsieur Ramier off his feet. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized for the umpteenth time that day. 

“It’s quite alright, dear,” Monsieur Ramier smiled, patting her hand softly. “I think something’s on your mind, am I right?”

She careened backwards, her hands waving enthusiastically, “Me? No, nope, nothing at all! I’m just excited for Christmas, yeah, that’s all! Just Christmas!”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, but at that moment, the bakery door flew open and Alya swept in, “OK, Marinette, BFF to the rescue!”

Monsieur Ramier looked at the young journalist and laughed, “Will you promise to tell _her_ what’s on your mind? Since you can’t tell a silly old man?”

Marinette chuckled. Alya looked from Marinette to Monsieur Ramier and back to Marinette, “Something’s on her mind?”

“Yes,” Monsieur Ramier said conspiratorially, “and it’s so consuming that she nearly knocked me over. But never fear, it takes a lot more than a preoccupied young lady to get the best of me.”

Marinette sighed and finished packaging Monsieur Ramier’s order, “You’re right of course. But no, I’m not going to tell you. Because there’s nothing to tell.”

“Nothing to tell?” he chuckled, “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy your evening, Marinette. You too, Marinette’s friend.” Monsieur Ramier left, leaving Alya and Marinette alone in the bakery. 

“So,” Alya grinned, “spill it.”

“Hey, welcome home,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “It’s so nice of you to come by so quickly after arriving in Paris.”

“Hush. Who is he?”

“I take it journalism school has been going well.”

“Marinette.”

“And Nino was happy to see you last night.”

“Marinette!”

Marinette groaned and caved, “Fine! I’ll tell you. But only if you promise to give me really good advice.”

“Ooh!” Alya squealed, whipping out the barstool from behind the counter, perching herself on it, and interlocking her fingers under her chin. 

“But first, thanks for being the kind of friend who doesn’t miss a beat. It’s been months since we saw each other in person and you just come in and—’

“MARINETTE!”

Marinette grabbed her own barstool, sat, and then sunk her face into her hands, “Adrisbaenpairsh!”

“What?” Alya moaned, “I didn’t catch that.”

Marinette’s head snapped up, dragging her cheeks and lower eyelids with her white fingers, “Adrien’s back in Paris!”

Alya burst into laughter so hard she had to remove her glasses to wipe her eyes, “Is _that_ all? I knew that! Nino told me; Adrien’s staying with him! Besides, you’ve been over Adrien for years. Right?”

“Yes! I mean, I thought so! But then he showed up out of nowhere one night, and then we were eating dinner and then he licked frosting off his nose and then we put up Clairece and we went ice skating and… _stop_ laughing Alya, this is serious! I don’t know what to make of it! I’m so confused and klutzy and my heart keeps racing and… _shut up!”_

Alya held her sides. “Oh girl, you are still too funny!”

“Listen, Alya,” Marinette growled, grabbing her friend’s hand, “I _can’t_ fall apart again over him. I don’t know why he keeps asking me to do things, or why he’s flirting so much, but maybe Jacqueline brought out a more touchy-feely side to him.”

“Who’s Jacqueline?”

“His girlfriend, which is why this is so awful!”

Alya raised an eyebrow, “He’s got a girlfriend?”

“Yes, and if her Instagram is any indication, it’s pretty serious. I think I’m just reading into things. He’s just in Paris for a couple weeks and wanted to catch up with old friends, that’s all.”

“Ok,” Alya said, growing serious, “pause. Adrien came back to Paris for a couple weeks and is staying with Nino while he’s here for… what reason?”

“Business.”

“Ok, while he’s here for business. But in the few days he’s been here, you’ve had dinner, hung out with a random stranger named Clairece—”

“That’s the Christmas tree he picked out for Nino—”

“Oh, _that_ sad thing?”

“It’s adorable and sweet, and you’ll hurt her feelings!”

Alya peered over her glasses at Marinette and raised an eyebrow excruciatingly slowly, “You. Named. A. Christmas. Tree.”

Marinette grimaced, “Technically, Adrien did.”

“And you’re sure he’s got a girlfriend?”

Marinette flopped forward again. “I told you I needed advice!”

Alya gnawed her lip, “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Marinette gripped the edge of her barstool but didn’t sit up, “Just rip the band-aid off.”

“You need to tell him exactly how you feel. You need to tell him everything, about how you felt in school and how you feel with him here.”

“Alya!”

She just shook her head, “No, Marinette, no backing out of it now. You hummed and hawed and avoided him until it was too late. He left with never knowing how you felt about him. Now, he’s back, you’ve both had other relationships, and if you don’t come clean now, you will _not_ get another chance.”

“But the problem is, I don’t know how I feel!”

“You don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

“No!”

“You weren’t excited when you saw him that first time.”

“Well, I was, but I get excited when I see any of my friends!”

“You weren’t _over the moon_ to see him. You didn’t feel your stomach leap into your throat. You were calm and cool as a cucumber. You saw him and said, ‘well, hello Adrien Agreste who is equal in every way to any of my other friends.’”

“Weeell…” Marinette whined, “it wasn’t _exactly_ like that…”

“I didn’t think so. So, what else did you feel?”

Marinette closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “It was like… like coming home. Like a piece of me had been missing for years and he came back and my heart was whole again. He doesn’t even have to like me back—his jokes, his smile, his laughter… I missed him so much. I missed him so much I didn’t even know how much I was missing him. And when we touch, even if it’s just a tiny brush of fingers, it’s like a fire searing his presence into my memory. And when we skated together? It was like he could read my mind and I could read his. It’s like we’re more than friends—it’s like we’ve never been apart, and I’m just realizing how empty and hollow the last seven years have been without him.” Alya was silent for several excruciating seconds, her jaw hanging slack. “Alya? Alya, say something.”

“That was… beautiful, Marinette. You really need to tell him that.”

Marinette groaned and flopped forward again, “What part of ‘he has a girlfriend’ don’t you understand?”

“So he’s got a girlfriend! All the more reason to tell him how you feel! If it’s that strong of a connection for you, I guarantee you he’s feeling something as well. And if it’s not, then he’ll be the gentleman we know he is and let you down easy, and then back off so you can actually move forward. Either way, you get closure and he gets understanding.”

“Ugh!”

“You know I’m right. Admit it.”

Marinette scowled and folded her arms dramatically, “Alright, you’re right. But I still don’t like it.”

“Will you do it?”

Marinette sighed, “Maybe the 7,892nd try will be the lucky one.”

Alya cheered triumphantly. “I’ll be checking in with you later, then!”

“Goody. Say, speaking of later, you’re coming to the Winter Gala, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alya winked, and the two girls stood and made their way into the bakery kitchen. 

“Would you be willing to help get the last few invitations out? I’m trying to get some bigger donors to come. It’s the perennial challenge of fundraising—you’ve got to court the big names, but not overlook the little guy… anyway, I could really use some help.”

Alya nodded, “Of course, Marinette. But you already got an endorsement from Ladybug—that’s pretty impressive. I’ll bet this will be the best year ever.”

“I hope so,” Marinette fretted, tapping her fingers together nervously, “We’re short quite a bit for the memorial garden we’re trying to build. It’s such a beautiful project too—each child gets to plant a tree in honor of their parents, and the gardeners are all trained therapists in disguise.”

Alya patted Marinette’s shoulder and then started boxing up macarons, “That does sound amazing. I’ll be sure to get the word out.”

“Thanks, Als, you’re the best. So. Tell me everything about journalism and university and your classes and all of it.”

Alya took a deep breath and launched into a recap of the entire semester. Marinette listened and cherished the time with her dear friend. She didn’t notice how the minutes began slipping away and the sun started falling past the horizon. Soon, they were cleaning the bakery and Alya was washing pots and pans. 

“But Nino just rolled with it,” Alya wrapped up her story while Marinette bust a gut laughing, “He spent the last night of his visit holding the camera while I practiced the spiel for hours, and I got a hundred percent on the assignment. He’s so awesome!”

“That he is,” Marinette confirmed. The bell over the bakery door rang and Alya looked up.

“Speak of the devil,” she chuckled. 

Marinette looked up from the countertop she was scrubbing. Nino was in the entrance, and just beside him was, “Oh, Adrien!” Adrien’s eyes zoomed right over Alya’s head and locked onto Marinette’s. His face split in a megawatt smile.

Alya elbowed Marinette in the ribs. “Yeah,” she whispered, “he’s into you.”

“Shut up!” Marinette hissed back. “Hey, guys, how are you?” Marinette managed.

“I heard we could find you here!” Nino smiled at his girlfriend. Alya tore off her hairnet and apron and leapt into Nino’s arms. As they kissed noisily, Adrien and Marinette smiled awkwardly at each other. 

“How was your day?” Adrien asked politely.

“Just fine,” Marinette blushed. Finally, Nino and Alya pulled apart with a loud smack. 

“Well,” Alya said, “it’s time for us to go, so you have a great night!”

“What?” Marinette choked, “Where are you two going?”

Nino grinned, “Alya’s parents are hosting a Christmas party for the whole family. I hope you two enjoy your evening. I won’t be back until late, if at all, so feel free to use the apartment.”

 _“Nino!”_ Adrien growled.

Nino winked pointedly at Adrien, “Don’t forget what we talked about, man.”

Alya wrapped her arm around Nino’s waist and looked over her shoulder at Marinette, “You too, girl. Tell him.”

“Alya!” Marinette groaned forcefully. 

“Bye!”

“See Ya!” And with that, Nino and Alya were gone, leaving a very befuddled Adrien and Marinette alone in the bakery storefront.

“Um, that was weird,” Marinette covered.

“Yeah,” Adrien added, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nino can be kind of… obtuse.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “Oh, I know it. And Alya encourages him in it.”

“So, uh… you had something you needed to tell me?”

Marinette gulped and stuttered, “W-What? M-me, t-tell you s-s-something?”

Adrien looked at her quizzically, “Alya said—”

“Sledding!” Marinette yelped suddenly to change the subject, “What did you have in mind?”

Adrien gaped at Marinette for a few moments, before shaking his head, “I hadn’t thought it out much. You _sure_ you don’t have anything you wanted to talk about?”

Marinette swallowed hard, steeling herself, “N-nope. Just sledding.” She was already kicking herself internally. Why couldn’t she just talk to him? _Tell him the truth! Nothing bad is going to happen! But what about his girlfriend?_

“Ok then,” Adrien said in a slightly disappointed tone. 

“I guess I’d better grab my coat,” Marinette muttered, then, blushing, ran upstairs to get her belongings. She spent the whole time she was out of Adrien’s earshot chanting in a low voice, “You can do it Marinette. You can open up to him. You can tell him what you’re feeling. You’ve done it before to other guys, this is no different. The past is over, this is the present, you’re going to feel better once it’s done. No more chickening out.”

Marinette slid down the handrail back into the bakery, and Adrien was looking like a Greek god as he looked over the bakery’s portfolio in the storefront. His hair was shorter now, low in the back and swept forward on the top. He’d filled out from his lycee days, and now was nothing but rippling muscle and long limbs. Marinette clawed at her hair in an attempt to regain her composure. She should not be ogling Adrien’s muscles. Even though they were… impressive… in those tight jeans and blue sweater… _her_ sweater… that _she’d knitted. The sweater she knitted was on his ripped body._ Gah! Focus, Marinette!

Adrien turned, and when his warm green eyes met hers, Marinette melted. “Ready?”

“Yep,” she said, only maintaining her composure by focusing extremely hard. Adrien held out his hand expectantly. Marinette looked at it. 

It was a simple offer. Just a hand. Just a warm, soft hand, held open, waiting for hers to slip into it. It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a confession. It was just an offer to stay warm in the cold winter air. Wasn’t it? She wanted to take it and not look back. She wanted to abandon all caution and wrap her arms around his gorgeous frame and hold on for dear life. But an echo from years ago haunted her: Adrien. In the back seat of a silver sedan. With Gorilla driving. _“The girl I love doesn’t care for my jokes either.”_ That small sentence had destroyed her. It was that moment, when she realized that he loved someone else, that the first domino fell. It still took years to truly get past him, but that was the axe drop. If he loved someone else, she needed to give that other person the respect they deserved. 

Oh, how Marinette wanted to take that hand and never let go! But someone, somewhere, loved Adrien and he loved her back. She was certain it meant something different to Adrien than it meant to her. But she wasn’t going to take advantage of that fact. Marinette smiled sweetly, held onto her purse firmly with both hands, and marched into the freezing, dark night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the quasi-cliffhanger! Well, not *THAT* sorry. ;) I will try to get the next chapter up in a few days so you're not left hanging too long. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Coq-au-vin and Confessions

Adrien awkwardly stuck his hands in his pockets and followed Marinette out into the cold. Maybe she’d just misread his body language. He hoped she didn’t _not_ want to hold his hand. But she was still smiling, still looking at him softly from under her thick lashes, and still there. Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding.

“So,” she said once they were walking up the street, “where did you plan on going sledding?”

Adrien had spent the day stressing out at Nino’s apartment, trying to figure out how he actually felt about Marinette and wondering whether or not it was too soon after breaking up with Jacqueline to start dating again. Nino hadn’t been much help—all he had requested was that if Adrien decided to make out with Marinette, he do it when Nino wasn’t home. But something Adrien had _not_ done was scope out good sledding spots. “I thought we could figure that out together, if you didn’t have any thoughts,” he said smartly. She gave him a strange look. “What?” he asked.

“It’s just… we’ve only had a skiff of snow in the month of December. I don’t think we’re going to find a very good sledding hill in Paris.”

“Oh,” Adrien responded, feeling incredibly stupid. “Well then.”

Marinette started giggling. “Did you really not notice that there was no snow?”

He scoffed, “In my defense, there were forty inches of snow in New York when I left. Besides, I thought it might have snowed this afternoon while I was busy.”

Her giggle turned into a full-blown guffaw, which should have embarrassed Adrien further, but it only made his heart swell, “Adrien!” _Wow, his name sounded beautiful on her soft lips!_ “That’s not how this works! You need snow to go sledding! Preferably in the place you intend to go sledding!”

He pouted playfully, loving the response he was eliciting from her, “Don’t pick on me, I had a sheltered upbringing!” 

“Excuses,” she teased, whacking his arm gently. “So, no sledding.”

He folded his arms, stopped abruptly, and stamped his foot. “I’m _going_ to take you sledding, if it’s the last thing I do.”

She laughed, held up her hands to the crystal-clear sky, “Not tonight, you’re not!”

Adrien’s brain was already churning. “Good point,” he acknowledged, “but I’m still in town for a week more. I’m sure there will be enough snow for sledding before I go home.”

She gave a forced smile and nodded. “Maybe, sure.” She started walking again, and Adrien took a deep breath of frustration. She flirted with him like crazy, but he still couldn’t get a read on her. At times, he felt like she was interested in him, and there was no denying their unbelievable chemistry, but then she pulled away from him or backtracked when she said she liked him. She would drop unexpected phrases like ‘I love you the way you are’ that would ring through his head, but then she would look away or ignore his open hand. She was driving him absolutely mad. 

“Ok, until I can take you sledding—”

“Not going to happen,” she interjected with an adorable wink.

“How about dinner? I’ve been _dying_ for a nice coq-au-vin. New York’s got amazing hot dogs, but I miss Paris, you know.”

She smiled, “Paris misses you too, you know.”

His heart did that funny little tap dance that it did whenever she said something caring like that. “So, any suggestions for where we can get a top-notch meal?”

She pursed her lips, “Well, for coq-au-vin, there’s a couple decent restaurants around the theater, but to be honest… I can make a better coq-au-vin than anything you can get in a restaurant.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

She put on a sassy smirk that made Adrien shove his hands into his pockets to avoid reaching out and wrapping his arms around her, “Really.”

“Ok then,” he said, trying to match her spunky attitude, “prove it.”

“Uh,” she said, her eyes going wide, “P-prove it?”

Yeah, he’d called her bluff, and this was going to be fun. “Yep. Prove it. I’ll buy whatever you need, you make it, we order all the coq-au-vin we can find, and we’ll have a taste-off.”

Marinette gulped, “That seems unfair to me. I mean, I don’t have time to let the chicken marinate overnight or to build my sauce base from scratch!”

He deadpanned at her, “Are you really going to let a little thing like that hold you back?”

“Well,” she said, her look of alarm already turning into a pensive expression, “I suppose if we got the chicken in the marinade right away… and I could do the potatoes with the cream… it’s not that late, we’ve got time…” Adrien had always loved this about Marinette. She was good at solving puzzles. She never let a challenge slip past her. “So, what’ll you give me if I win?”

He thought about that for a second, then responded with a smirk, “Bragging rights?”

She stuck out her lower lip, “That’s hardly an incentive.”

He leaned into her space and smiled widely. She froze, her eyes locked on his, “My eternal gratitude?”

For a second, he thought that he’d taken her breath away, but nope, she recovered and threw on her sassiest smile yet, “If I win, you have to promise to come to my fundraiser Winter Gala and take pictures with all the kids.”

Adrien pretended to think about that for a beat before leaning in closer and whispering, “And if you lose?”

She destroyed him with the way her mouth moved, “I won’t.”

“Oho, so confident! I like it! You’ve got yourself a deal.” They shook hands professionally, and then Marinette grabbed Adrien’s hand and started sprinting. Even with an extra half-meter of stride length, Adrien had to stretch to keep up. “What are you doing?” he chortled.

“Ingredients! We need to get a move on! Come _on_ ,” she groaned, and Adrien relished the way her fingers wrapped around his so comfortably, like they’d always belonged there. Her touch was familiar and new all in one. 

Marinette dragged him first into the wine shop and was greeted by the store owner. She knew the man by name, and Adrien watched in awe as she confidently grabbed a few bottles of a fine burgundy. Marinette tapped her toes impatiently as the owner carefully boxed up the bottles of wine. “Thanks, Gustav!” she waved as they bolted for the next shop. Up the street was the butcher, and again, Adrien grinned as the woman behind the counter lit up when Marinette came crashing through the doors.

“Marinette, how good to see you today!”

“No time for chit-chat, Elise. I’m making coq-au-vin, and it’s an emergency!”

“Emergency coq-au-vin?” the woman snapped to attention, “On it! How many pieces?”

“Four!”

“Ok, I’ve got the perfect bird!” 

“Do you have any plastic bags?” Marinette pleaded. 

“Plastic?” the woman raised an eyebrow, then her mouth fell to a perfect ‘o’ of understanding. “Yeah! Hang on,” she responded, racing to the back room and returning with a small glass container. “This ought to do it!”

Marinette’s face melted into a smile of gratitude. She handed one of the bottles of wine to the butcher, who rolled her eyes and threw the hinged countertop up. “Just get your skinny butt back here and do it yourself.” Marinette giggled in the way that made Adrien’s heart thump. Marinette ran back behind the counter. “You too,” the friendly butcher waved Adrien in. He followed hesitantly, mostly eager to see what Marinette was doing. 

“Here!” Marinette wailed, tossing a bottle opener to Adrien. “C’mon, hurry up!”

Adrien laughed and started working to uncork the bottle as Marinette seasoned four large pieces of chicken. He handed her the open bottle of wine and she placed the chicken in the glass container and poured half the bottle over top. As soon as the lid was clamped on carefully, Marinette took a step backwards and wiped her forehead. “Phew! That was close!”

Elise, the butcher, laughed as she rung up the chicken and Adrien paid. Adrien leaned over the counter and grinned, “Is she _always_ like this?”

“What, Marinette? Uh, yeah.”

Adrien and Elise shared a wink, and Marinette brought the marinating chicken in a bag. After thanking Elise profusely, Adrien and Marinette headed off to the produce market. The rest of the shopping was far less hurried. The two strolled along together, Marinette hunting, Adrien simply observing. They stopped in front of a pile of garlic, and Marinette’s fingers flew over them. She obviously knew something he didn’t about garlic. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip, then started, “I’m looking for a nice, heavy head with no green poking up. I want really fresh ingredients.” 

“Like this one?” he said, finding one that matched her description.

She inspected it, then nodded, “Yeah, that looks like a good one.”

They picked out potatoes next—gold with thin skins, and apparently wrinkles were a bad thing. Onions were a lot like garlic, though Adrien was shocked at how many varieties there were, and that Marinette insisted on buying both a large one and a little bag of tiny ones. “Don’t they taste the same?” he’d asked, but she only rolled her eyes and continued shopping. Slowly, Adrien’s basket filled with fragrant and fascinating ingredients. Having grown up with a personal chef, Adrien had never learned much about cooking. But Marinette brought life into every step of this process, and Adrien was pleased as punch that he’d challenged her to a cooking competition—even if he already had the winner picked out.

Laden with their purchases, Marinette and Adrien hiked the steps to Nino’s apartment. Clairece, the Christmas tree, sparkled in the corner. Marinette greeted the tree as if she were an old friend. Adrien grinned and put down all her packages. She started unloading ingredients and laying them out with precision, as if she were taking a careful inventory. Once she was certain her ingredients were perfect, she started searching for cooking supplies. She located a thin knife and a ratty cuttingboard and the pot Nino had used to warm up the soup he’d shared with Adrien on the day he had arrived, and then Marinette set to work. Adrien stared at her in amazement as she diced vegetables and picked tiny leaves from stems of thyme. 

“I’ve gotta admit,” he said, after she’d caught him staring for the third time, “you are incredible, Marinette.”

She blushed lightly but smiled. “Thanks.”

“I guess you learned a lot about cooking, growing up in a bakery.”

She shrugged, “I guess. Papa always did the baking. Maman does the cooking.”

He frowned, “I wasn’t aware there was a difference.”

She smiled fondly, “Yes, there’s a difference. Baking is pastries and bread and things that mostly use an oven. Cooking is meat and vegetables and meals and mostly use a stovetop. But there’s not really hard-and-fast rules.”

He frowned and scratched his chin, “If there aren’t hard-and-fast rules, how come there’s a difference between cooking and baking?”

She paused, her knife hovering over the mushrooms she was slicing, “You know, I’m not sure.” They both laughed. “Do you want to learn?”

“More than anything,” he admitted.

She took a breath and motioned with her head for him to come join her. She showed him what she was doing, then handed the knife to him. He sliced the mushrooms carefully, trying to make his the exact same size as hers. 

Before too long, the pot on the stove started making amazing smells. Marinette issued instructions in an even, gentle tone, and Adrien followed each one to a T. He scrubbed carrots and painstakingly peeled tiny onions—making his eyes sting. He listened carefully as she described layering the flavors in and talked about salt and pepper as ‘seasoning.’ He smelled each ingredient as she wafted it under his nose and reveled in their unique fragrances. He liked the fresh herbs the best. Eventually, Marinette clamped a lid over the pot and adjusted the stove settings. 

“And that’s it,” she said.

“What?”

“Now we wait.”

“How long?” he said, his stomach grumbling. 

“An hour or two,” she shrugged. 

_“What?”_

She laughed again, which caused a different kind of ache in Adrien’s abdomen, “I promised I’d make you the best coq-au-vin in Paris, not that I’d make it in twenty minutes!”

He took a breath, playfully pouted, and then stretched and went to the couch. “How about a game of Ultimate Mecha Strike while we wait?”

She blinked rapidly in confusion, “UMS? You still play?”

He shrugged, “It’s been a few years, but I remember the basics. What, afraid I’ll expose you for not practicing?”

Sass replaced the surprise on her face, and she shook her head, “If at the end of this night you still have any doubts about what I can and cannot do...”

She set up Nino’s old gaming console and tossed Adrien a controller. Nino’s kitchen may have been pathetic, but his entertainment system was not. Marinette sat cross-legged on the couch and Adrien sat beside her. She leaned away from him slightly, as if to get a better view of the screen. They launched a round of the game and Marinette beat him soundly. “Ok,” he admitted, “that was embarrassing.” Marinette rubbed the backs of her arms and smiled demurely. She didn’t even gloat. “Aren’t you going to shout in triumph or something?”

She winked, “Why would I do that? You already know you lost.”

 _Oh my. Lost way more than a game of UMS,_ a persistent little voice said in Adrien’s head. He gulped back the saliva flooding his mouth and tried to distract himself from Marinette’s lips. She was still hugging her arms. “Oh, I’m sorry, you look freezing!”

She shrugged, “I’m not a big winter fan, to be honest. I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, and jumped off the couch and found the bundle of wood he’d bene eyeballing for the past few nights. “I can’t use a stovetop, but I _can_ do this,” he said proudly, and a few minutes later, he’d gotten a cozy fire started in Nino’s wood fireplace. He looked back at Marinette, expecting to see her relax as the warmth of the fire filled the room, but she looked even more tense now. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the confusion and frustration of her mixed signals welling up inside him. “Marinette,” he said softly, “what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” she said, her eyes drifting from the flames in the fireplace up to meet Adrien’s. 

“I noticed the way you didn’t want to hold hands with me earlier. I noticed the way you leaned away from me just now. What did I do wrong?”

“Uh,” she said nervously, gnawing her lower lip raw. “N-Nothing—”

“Please don’t,” he said sincerely. “I get it if you don’t want me to touch you, and I’ll respect that. But please don’t tell me nothing’s wrong.”

She pinched her eyes shut and pulled her knees under her chin. She was whispering something to herself, but he couldn’t make it out. He waited for her patiently for as long as he could stand. She said nothing. He took a breath to prompt her, but finally, she muttered from behind her knees, “It means something different to me than it does to you.”

He had to think about her words for a moment. “What, me touching you?” The crown of her head bobbed as she nodded. He was even more confused. He liked her, and thought she liked him back. What else would holding hands mean? “What does it mean to you, then?”

She peeked over her kneecaps momentarily, then buried her face again, “I… I… I’m such a coward. I’m sorry, Adrien, I have a really hard time talking about this.”

Flame rose in Adrien’s chest. “Did someone hurt you?” he snapped, red creeping in his peripheral vision, “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them for hurting you.” And he meant it. His fists clenched instinctively. “Who was it? I’ll kill them!”

“What?” she gasped, cutting him off with a hand to his chest, pushing him back into the couch, “No! Nobody hurt me, I’m fine! Why would you think that?”

“Nobody… nobody hurt you?” She shook her head, now looking at him with wide, bright eyes. “Oh.” His violent reaction subsided, and he felt sheepish, “Oh, sorry. I just thought someone must have hurt you, if it was hard to talk about and you didn’t want to be touched—”

She shook her head, “No, no, it’s not like that at all. It’s that—it’s that… UGH this is so embarrassing!”

He pondered for a second, “Are you on your period or something? Because it’s ok—”

“Ugh,” she groaned again, rolling her eyes, “Quit guessing, Adrien, you’re just making it worse—”

“Sorry—”

“When I touch you, when I hold hands with you, it means I like you and I refuse to hurt someone else like that! I know how much it hurts, to find out the person you’re in love with likes someone else, and I promised myself I’d never do that to another human being.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Adrien gasped.

“That day at the Grevin Wax Museum. You told me then, and it changed everything, and ever since then, I promised myself that I wouldn’t come in between you and the one you loved ever again!”

Adrien was beyond confused, but at least she’d dropped her knees so he could see her face. “The Grevin Wax Museum? Marinette, I haven’t been to the wax museum since… since…”

“Adrien, I was in love with you!” she screeched, then clamped her hand over her mouth. She turned four shades of purple and Adrien was a little concerned he might have to perform CPR. Then again, his own heart stopped beating. Could he perform CPR if he was dead too? Oh well, at least they died together. 

“You… you were?” he managed weakly. She nodded slowly. “When?”

She gnawed her lip, “All through college. And most of lycee.” 

He was struggling to process. All that time? Years and years? “Why? Why didn’t you say something?”

She closed her eyes again, “I was too scared. I was terrified you’d reject me. And then, one day we were at the wax museum and I was going to tell you everything, but then you pulled a prank and I almost kissed you and as we drove home you apologized and told me you were in love with someone else.”

A hazy memory bounced in Adrien’s head. “I… I don’t remember telling you I was in love with someone else, but yeah, I guess that’s possible.”

“And after that, you started dating Kagami, and I knew how much it hurt to be let down, even as gently as you did, so I promised myself I’d support your relationship.”

“Kagami…” Adrien pondered, scratching his neck, “I… I never loved Kagami. Oh, she was sweet, and we had some good times, but I was never in love with her…” But he knew. Adrien knew who Marinette was talking about, even if she didn’t. 

“You weren’t in love with Kagami?” she asked, genuinely confused. 

“No.”

“Who, then?”

Now it was Adrien’s turn to be embarrassed. He looked at his wringing hands, “I’m afraid you’ll think less of me.”

“Adrien.” Marinette groaned, digging her fists into her hips, “I just admitted to being in love with you for years and you think I’m going to think less of _you_?” 

“I was in love with Ladybug,” he whispered. “Please don’t laugh.” She wasn’t laughing. She just sat there, jaw slack. “But that was a long time ago. I grew out of it,” he added. She didn’t respond. After Adrien had waited what felt like an eternity for her to say something, he decided he’d better remind her of the point of this conversation. “So, you had a thing for me back when we were teenagers—why the cold shoulder now?”

“Um,” she said lethargically, “yeah… I just… I’m sorry… I can’t…” He gave her another minute of stunned silence, before she finally regained her composure, “I promised myself I would never hurt another person that way,” she restated simply.

Adrien sighed and leaned back into the couch, exasperated at his own confusion. “Marinette, all of that was a long time ago. I’m sorry I brought up some old feelings. I’m ok with remaining good friends, but… I like you. I like getting to spend time with you.”

“Me too,” she whispered apologetically. “That’s what makes it so bad, don’t you see? Because I _do_ like you still, and if I hold your hand, I’ll be hurting her!”

“Who?” he begged.

“Jacqueline!”

“Jacq— _What?”_

“Sorry,” she frowned, “Maybe I’m mispronouncing her name—”

_“Jacqueline? You’re worried about hurting Jacqueline?”_

“Y-Yes?”

Adrien processed for a second, then couldn’t stop the chuckle that morphed into a laugh that morphed into a full-on belly-bursting-guffaw. “You think I’m still with _her?”_

“Well,” she said defensively, “I did… until you started laughing.”

“S-sorry,” he hiccupped, trying to calm down enough to speak clearly, “J-Jacqueline and I broke up before I came here. To be honest, it was a big part of why I came back to Paris at all.”

Marinette’s jaw sagged again, “You did _what?”_

Adrien was amazed at how easy it was to talk about this, “Jacqueline wasn’t the person I thought she was. I don’t know why it took me two years to see, but she was more interested in my money than in me.”

“ _WHAT?”_ Marinette screeched, taking Adrien by surprise. “Oh, it’s a good thing she’s all the way in New York, because I’d _destroy_ her! How dare she! Oh, that wench! Sorry, I shouldn’t call her a wench. Just… you deserve so much better!”

His heart warmed at her sudden response. “It’s ok, Marinette, like I said, we broke up, and I came here to get some perspective.”

Marinette relaxed into the couch and unclenched her fists. “You still deserve better.”

He wanted to hug her, to thank her for being such an amazing friend. But she’d only just barely opened up to him, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Instead, he scooted just a little bit closer to her, so their thighs brushed lightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I can’t remember the last time someone stood up for me the way you do.”

She flushed and looked down. Her hair fell across her cheek. He couldn’t help it—he reached up and carefully tucked it behind her ear, still adorned with the simple black earrings she always wore. She froze for a second, then leaned into his touch. He let his fingers linger on her ear, then drift slowly down her jaw and neck. Touching Marinette felt right. It felt like coming home. He leaned in and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Marinette sighed and pulled her knees in again, this time leaning into his side and placing her cheek on his chest. If he’d still had his Miraculous, he’d probably be purring right now. Adrien pushed away those thoughts as quickly as they popped up—the Miraculous was still nothing but a distant memory. Instead, he focused on the way Marinette’s hair tickled his chin, and the way her tiny, toned curves matched up with his. The heat from the cheerful fire washed over them. Adrien could have sat like this forever, with her by his side. 

But then his stomach growled. 

Marinette burst out laughing, “Hungry much, Agreste?”

He melted when she used his last name. “Well, a beautiful woman promised me coq-au-vin. You can’t just say things like that and expect my stomach _not_ to growl in protest!”

Still laughing, Marinette clambered to her feet. Adrien pouted. “Come on,” she teased, holding out her hand. He slipped his fingers through hers and she pulled him to his feet. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and again, miraculously, she didn’t pull away. “Let’s make the potatoes.”

Marinette and Adrien worked in the kitchen, sharing electrifying little touches every time it was possible—a brush of fingers here, a bump of the shoulders or hips there, a few warm embraces, and plenty of entwined hands. Adrien’s heart raced every time. Being with her was otherworldly! How had he never noticed? How had he gone all those years in school without realizing she was there? And apparently, she’d been in love with him all that time. Wow, he felt dense. But he also felt like he had a lot of catching up to do, and he was eager to start. Yet, at the same time, he had known her for years. It wasn’t like he didn’t know her favorite color (pink) or her dream career. Yes, on the cover, he knew Marinette. But he didn’t know the kinds of things he ached to find out—what her hair looked like in the moonlight, or if she snored, or whether or not she painted her toenails. What was her childhood like? Was she still interested in him? Was she as good of a kisser as he imagined she must be with lips like those? 

Marinette was cooking potatoes and Adrien was fishing cream out of the refrigerator. Her back was to him, and he took the opportunity to admire her luscious body. Feeling beyond brazen, he walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and placed the cream in front of her. She tensed up briefly, and he whispered in her ear, “So, honest question—do you still feel about me like you did in college?”

Marinette took a long, shaky breath, then squeaked, “Do you want me to?” She slowly turned to face him with his arms still firmly around her waist.

He looked down into those wide, vulnerable, stunning blue eyes. Love. She’d said _love._ He respected her too much to toy with her. If she loved him, he’d better love her back. “I…” he hesitated, wanting to make sure that he did this right, “I want to try.”

She chewed her lip, then met his gaze again, “I agree. No rush. Just two friends remembering what it’s like to be friends.”

“Well,” he teased, leaning in carefully, “maybe a _little_ bit more than friends.”

Marinette threw her head back and laughed, then froze. “Um,” she groaned, looking up. “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Adrien looked up. Above their heads, attached to the kitchen light fixture, was a small bundle of—“Oh,” he chuckled, “that would be mistletoe.”

He looked back at Marinette and wagged his eyebrows. She shocked him—rather than shy away, she grinned, lifted herself to her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Nice,” he said, touching the spot her lips had brushed. “But you missed.”

Now it was his turn to surprise her. Adrien cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her on the lips. They were, in fact, as soft as they appeared. Softer even. And sweet. And warm. And powerful. She leaned into the kiss, returning the sensation twofold. Eventually, they broke apart, but she didn’t leave his side. 

“Potatoes,” she muttered huskily, then smoothed the front of her shirt. 

“Potatoes? You kiss me like that and all you can say is potatoes?” 

She shrugged, “I don’t want to burn them!”

He stood there, dumbfounded, “But seriously, _potatoes?_ ”

She shrugged again and ignored his scoffing sound. Marinette was busy pulling plates out of the cupboard and heaping them with creamy mounds of whipped potatoes and a pile of chicken dripping with sauce and fat. 

“Oh,” he said, as she handed Adrien his plate and his mouth immediately filled with water, “ _potatoes._ ”

“Yep,” she grinned, filling a couple glasses with the remaining wine from the bottle. Adrien led them back to the couch. 

He stared at the beautiful plate of food in his lap for several seconds, admiring the way the sauce clung to the chicken and the way the tiny (perfectly peeled, thank you very much) onions pooled beside the cloud of potatoes. Marinette stuck a toasted wedge of bread on top, then held up her wine glass. Adrien did the same. “To coq-au-vin and confessions,” she grinned.

He grinned back and tapped her glass with his. He barely tasted the wine before digging into his meal. He was ravenous and lost all sense of decorum as soon as the first bite hit his tongue. His mouth exploded with flavor. The chicken was rich and tender, and the tiny pearl onions popped like gems of juicy unctuousness. The skin of the chicken crunched in his teeth, and soon he’d polished off his first piece. Then, he took a forkful of potatoes. They were the perfect blend of hearty and soft—quintessential comfort on a fork. The bread was toasted perfectly, and he dipped it in the sauce that filled the plate. “Oooh,” he moaned, the sauce-soaked bread melting in his mouth, “Marinette, you’re… you’re incredible.”

She was politely eating her own piece of chicken, carefully mixing the potatoes with a little sauce. “So, was I right?”

Adrien took another bite of his coq-au-vin and the crunchy lardons popped in between his teeth, “About…?”

“About making the best coq-au-vin… hang on, shoot!”

“What is it?”

“We were going to order a whole bunch of coq-au-vin and do a taste test!”

It took Adrien a beat to remember what she was talking about, but then he laughed. “Considering that this is the single best thing I’ve ever tasted, I think a taste test would be pointless.”

She blushed, set her plate down, and leaned in, “So I win?”

He licked his lips, “You do.”

“So, you’ll come to the fundraiser?”

“Spoiler: I was planning on coming all along.”

She pouted playfully, coming dangerously close to his face, “Well, darn, I was hoping for a prize. Can I have something else then?”

“Anything my princess desires.” This could be dangerous. “Within reason.”

“All I want is this,” she whispered, before closing the distance between them and kissing him fiercely. She was _so_ much stronger than she looked. She attacked his mouth greedily, kissing him over and over again, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight. He didn’t hold back; he returned her passion and pulled her closer to him. She gripped the collar of his sweater and he hugged her hips. He went in for more, but she unexpectedly pulled back with a noisy smack. “I want that,” she said, then tapped her lips thoughtfully, “And for you to do the dishes.”


	9. Gelato and Gymnastics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season and feel loved and appreciated--because *I* love and appreciate you all! Thank you for reading and sharing this amazing fandom with me. 
> 
> Quick recap of where we're at in this story:  
> -Adrien dumped his gold digger girlfriend, but was struggling to come to terms with his feelings and how his upbringing didn't teach him self-respect or how to find true love. Desperate for clarity, he returned to Paris.  
> -After Hawkmoth was defeated seven years ago, Chat Noir left his ring with Ladybug.   
> -Once in Paris, Adrien ran into Marinette and the two have been getting closer.  
> -Meanwhile, Adrien saw Ladybug leave a note underneath a community Christmas Tree, and noticed it was for Chat Noir. He left his own note for her. The note she gave him helped him find peace and closure that Ladybug doesn't hate him.  
> -Now feeling free to move on in every aspect of his life, Adrien acknowledged his budding feelings for Marinette, though she gave mixed signals in return.  
> -Finally, Adrien cornered Marinette and she admitted she has feelings for him, but was holding back, still believing he had a girlfriend back in New York.   
> -After an important conversation clearing the air and confessing long-held feelings, Adrien and Marinette shared their first kiss under the mistletoe.

Marinette locked the bathroom door and ran her fingers through her hair. Tikki phased through the wall and snuggled next to Marinette’s cheek. Marinette barely acknowledged her. “I can’t believe it,” she gasped. 

“Marinette, I’m so excited for you!” Tikki squeaked. 

“I can’t believe it!” Marinette repeated. “He likes me! He really likes me!”

“I told you it was only a matter of time, to be patient and confident.”

“But did you hear? He likes me!” Tikki giggled. Marinette slapped her cheeks. “This is real life, right Tikki? Not a dream? He really kissed me, right?”

Tikki rolled her eyes, “Not as much as you kissed him back.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped, “Oh no, do you think I came on too strong? I got so caught up in the moment, what if I scared him?”

“You didn’t. He enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it,” she echoed, “yeah. But Tikki,” Marinette gasped, “he wasn’t in love with Kagami all those years ago—he was in love with me. With _Ladybug!_ I… I can’t believe it. Of course, that’s in the past; he doesn’t feel that way anymore, but he… he was so much closer than I ever knew. And I think—I think it may still be a possibility.”

“So,” Tikki prompted, a wide grin splitting her tiny face, “are you going to finally admit you still have feelings for him?”

Marinette’s fingers trembled as she cupped Tikki and stroked her little head, “Yes, I think I can finally admit that. But Tikki, what do I _do?_ I really, really don’t want to mess this up.”

Tikki hugged Marinette’s cheek, “Just be you. If he doesn’t fall in love with you, exactly the way you are, then it’s not really love.”

Marinette blinked and pondered that, “Yeah,” she muttered, then repeated with more confidence, “Yeah, you’re right. Just be myself.”

“It’s going to be great, Marinette. I believe in you!”

“Thanks, Tik,” Marinette nuzzled Tikki with her nose, before the kwami phased back through the floor to give Marinette some privacy. A few minutes later, Marinette steeled herself before returning to the kitchen. Adrien was drying the last few dishes, and his face lit up when he saw her. Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. _How was he so beautiful?_

“Hey!” he started, “I was wondering, what am I supposed to wear for the Gala?”

“It’s a semi-formal event.”

He pursed his lips, “I brought a sport jacket, but I don’t have a tux here.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, delighting in the comfort she felt talking to Adrien, “I’m sure that will be fine.”

“But are other people going to be in black tie? What are _you_ going to be wearing?”

“Not a tux,” Marinette winked.

Adrien wandered back to Nino’s couch, “Ha. _So_ funny.”

She giggled, “I thought so.”

Adrien patted the spot on the couch next to him, and Marinette took a deep breath before cozying up to him. The fire was still cheerfully blazing in the hearth. “Mm, that’s nice,” he said, once he’d draped his arm around her shoulders. “Right?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, placing her head on his firm pectoral. Secretly, Marinette was still internally squealing. She was cuddling with _Adrien Agreste!_

“You know,” he said ponderously, “we’ve known each other for ten years now, but there’s still so much I don’t know about you.”

She laughed lightly, “Really? I’m an open book.” _Well, except for one little thing…_

“What was your favorite Christmas?”

Marinette thought for a second, then responded, “Christmas is always a busy time for the bakery, so we always stuck close to home, and as soon as I was old enough to use a sifter, my place was in the kitchen with Maman and Papa. It was hard work, and I probably complained more than was necessary, but Papa would sing carols while he decorated cakes or made bread. I don’t know if I can pinpoint one year as being the best, but that was my favorite—just spending time with my parents and our favorite customers, making gifts and goodies and bringing cheer to everyone.” He squeezed her shoulder and sighed at the pleasant memory. “What about you?”

He scoffed, “That’s easy—the first Christmas without my mother.”

“Really?” she gasped. 

“It had been a tough year. I missed my mother terribly, my father was… well… getting worse, and I was feeling really, _really_ lonely. I had all but given up on Christmas. I ran off on Christmas Eve, angry, upset, afraid, alone, but then one of my friends sent me this handmade hat, and it was the right thing at the right moment. It let me know I still had people who cared about me. I went home, and that same kind, caring friend gathered up all our classmates and came to my house for Christmas Day. The mansion had never been so alive with love, not even when mother was still with us.” Marinette was blushing fiercely by now. She remembered that Christmas as well, from a slightly different perspective. “Marinette,” he crooned, turning to look at her, “you were a friend for me when I needed one desperately. Thank you.”

She didn’t know what to say. “You’re welcome,” she said lamely. “You deserved it.”

He kissed her forehead lightly, making little shivers race down her spine, “But you saw the need and jumped in. And, as I recall, that wasn’t the only time you did something like that for me—you convinced my father to let me go to New York that one time, you loaned me your notes more than once—the happiest parts of my teenage years were thanks to you.”

Marinette felt a little sheepish. “I… I told you, I really liked you. I did plenty of things I’m not proud of too—”

“Ah,” he shushed her gently, “don’t start self-depreciating. It _wasn’t_ just because you liked me—it was because of who you are. I know you helped all our friends in the same ways.” Marinette had no words. She just blushed and looked at her hands. “Marinette?” Adrien whispered, caressing her jaw with one finger and lifting her chin so their eyes met, “Thank you.” 

Her insides turned to goo, but she didn’t care. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, then deeper and slower. He ran his fingers through her hair as she hitched her arms around his neck. They moved together with increasing need, as if they were making up for ten years of lost time. 

Suddenly, the buzzer to Nino’s apartment rang, and Adrien pulled back. Marinette pouted. “Sorry,” he said, a Cheshire grin splitting his face, “I’ll be right back.”

As Adrien raced to the door, Marinette smoothed her shirt and tried not to overthink this moment. She added some wood to the fire—that seemed like a good thing to do. Fortunately, Adrien was quick, and he returned with a pair of small cartons in his hand. “What is this?” she queried.

“Dessert!” he held out the cartons triumphantly—she recognized the logo.

“Oh,” she moaned, “gelato? Are you _trying_ to spoil me rotten?”

He wagged his eyebrows, “Why, is it working?”

She sauntered up to him and peeked at the flavors in his hand, then read out loud, “Raspberry and Pistachio? Yep, it’s working.”

She fetched a couple spoons from Nino’s kitchen, then returned to the couch. She tossed a spoon to Adrien and he caught it, tossed it back up and spun it a couple times, then snatched it from the air and stabbed the gelato. Marinette laughed and clapped slowly, “Excellent form, ten-out-of-ten!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he teased back and bowed. She carved a thin line of her dessert with her spoon and sucked it slowly. The flavor lingered in her mouth as she swallowed. 

“Mmm,” she moaned. “How did you know that pistachio was my favorite gelato flavor?”

He frowned, “I didn’t. It’s _my_ favorite gelato flavor. Don’t go eating it all; I call dibs on at least half.”

“No way,” she stuck her nose in the air and took another bite. “Mine. Privileges of winning the dinner cook-off.”

He frowned, “You can have some raspberry!”

She lifted an eyebrow and inspected his gelato, pretended to think about it, “I’m good thanks.”

“Hey!” he growled, then jumped so his feet were under him on the couch and prepared his spoon for battle.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned with a glare, hugging the green gelato to her chest.

Another devilish wag of the eyebrows and he pounced, the spoon slicing through the air. But Marinette had had plenty of practice as Ladybug; she dodged and squirmed away from Adrien’s weapon with ease. She hopped to her feet and threw her head back in triumphant laughter. “No!” Adrien groaned, “The pistachio gelato shall be mine!”

“In your dreams, little man!”

“Little?” he gasped, standing to his full (impressive) height, “Who you calling _little, Mousinette?”_ He reached out and she wasn’t quick enough to escape his long arms. He picked her up by the waist and pulled her into a bear hug. His fingers dug into her ribs. She squealed and the gelato carton slipped from her grasp. Marinette didn’t have time to think, just react—she saw the carton spiraling up past Adrien’s mouth, nose, and eyes. She lifted herself up onto Adrien’s shoulders, found purchase on one of his knees, and slipped from his grasp. Snatching the flying carton with one hand, she tucked her knees up under her chin and used her momentum to do a backflip away from him, then opened her body just in time to land in a three-point stance with the gelato held triumphantly aloft. Slowly, epically, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and didn’t even try to hold back the manic grin from her face. 

“ _Mine,”_ she said, standing, pulling the spoon from his slack fingers, and digging into her prize.

Adrien stood there, jaw on the floor, for a long, long time. Marinette finally broke the silence with a full-throated laugh. “How did you—what in the world—” he floundered.

She sauntered up to him, hips swaying intently, and flicked his nose with her spoon. “ _Excellent form, ten out of ten,”_ she mocked in a sing-song voice. She flopped on the couch and patted the spot next to her. He tentatively sat next to her, still slack-jawed and wide-eyed. 

“You _swear_ you don’t work out?” he muttered at last.

She shrugged and winked, enjoying his dumbfounded expression, “I suppose I may do a little bit of gymnastics. Just for fun.”

“For… for fun,” he echoed. Marinette just giggled and took another bite of her pistachio gelato. After tasting it for a moment, she pursed her lips.

“Hm,” she said slowly and thoughtfully, offering up her carton of gelato, “wanna switch flavors for a bit?”

He scowled playfully but swapped their gelato cartons and pulled Marinette against his side again. She inhaled his clean aftershave scent and closed her eyes against his chest, content to stay here with him forever.

* * *

“Shoot!” Marinette checked her watch and tried to move, but she was pinned under Adrien’s arms. Her neck was aching and her lower back felt like it was on fire. She tried to gently move Adrien’s arm without disturbing him, but apparently, she’d said ‘shoot’ louder than she thought, because he was already stirring.

“Whaddsit?” he moaned, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“It’s four! Four AM!”

He was becoming more cognizant and released Marinette. She scrambled to her feet and started collecting her coat and gloves. “Four?” he repeated wearily, “So?”

“So, I’m late! I dozed off as we were talking and I’m late. Shoot! Where did I leave my boots?”

He was fully awake now, stretching and rubbing his neck, which probably was as sore as Marinette’s. “Um, by the door. But what are you late for, at four in the morning?”

She laughed lightly, “Bakery duty.”

“Yes, but at _four?”_

She rolled her eyes at him, trying not to get lost in how cute he was with his mussed hair and sleep-puffed eyes, “Bakers get up early, Adrien. Sorry I woke you. I’ll see myself out, you can go back to sleep.”

He shook his head and got to his feet, “Do I have time to brush my teeth?”

“What?”

“Brush my teeth. Or I can grab my day bag. I’m living out of a suitcase anyway; it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What are you talking about?” she insisted, pausing her frantic race around the room to look at him. 

“Well, I figured you’d like some help. I don’t have a lot going on today, and I would really prefer to spend it with you, and since it’s my fault you didn’t get a decent night’s rest and you’re late, it seems only fitting that I come help you. So, do I have time to brush my teeth before we go?”

Awareness dawned on Marinette, “Oh, Adrien, that’s really unnecessary. I can manage on my own. It’s just the normal holiday orders and the morning rush, and then I’ll have the rest of the day to work on some things for the Gala. It’s going to be dull and tedious and… oh _shoot,_ ” her mind wandered, “I’ve got an appointment with the venue manager and I am a little behind on decorations, so, as you can see, I’m swamped—"

He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, then kissed her forehead. “Marinette, it’s ok to accept help sometimes. Especially from a guy who just found you, after all these years. Rumor has it that he’s got a pretty big crush on you, too.”

She looked up into his warm green eyes and melted in his embrace. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes and kissed her again, this time a quick peck on the lips, “Absolutely. I learned so much from you last night. I’m eager to get to work. Besides, like I told you last night, you do so much to help others. Please let me thank you.”

“Ok,” she acknowledged, then after swimming in his gaze for a second, she came to her senses and repeated, “Ok. Sure, go ahead and brush your teeth. But once we start, there’s not a lot of time for breaks, so bring your stuff.”

“On it!” he grinned and raced to collect his things. Perhaps, Marinette mused as Adrien raced around getting ready, she would be able to manage her massive to-do list _and_ spend the day with Adrien. As he darted out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in one hand and a comb in the other, she smiled. How did she get so lucky?


	10. To the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't established a very clear timeline on this story, but just as a reminder, Adrien is in Paris for approximately 2 weeks. The Winter Gala is going to happen on December 23rd, and he goes back to New York December 24th. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Marinette was exhausted and starving. Stretching, she checked her watch—no wonder; she’d been working on Gala arrangements for hours. She pinched the bridge of her nose and stood to pace around the cramped Children’s Center office. The Winter Gala was two days away, their fundraising goal was nowhere near where she’d hoped it would be, and yet there was still _so_ much to do. She’d planned on eating a sandwich at some point in the day, but lunch was long since passed and she didn’t have the energy to go make something. Maybe she had some leftovers in the small refrigerator in the break room. Marinette stretched her legs as she walked down the hall. 

Her phone chimed. She pulled it out:

**Adrien: Hey gorgeous. Just finished some meetings. What you up to?**

Marinette smiled and typed back:

**Marinette: Busy with Gala stuff. Starving. Exhausted. Missing you.**

**Adrien: At the Center?**

**Marinette: Yeah. Going to take a break and eat some…**

She rifled through the fridge. 

**Marinette: Looks like week-old tofu and rice. Yum. Oh wait, there’s some old dried out cheese in here.**

**Marinette: Do you think it's mold if it’s only a little bit fuzzy, not even green?**

**Adrien: Stop. Don’t move.**

She froze and looked at his text. 

**Marinette: I was joking, I wasn’t going to actually eat it…**

**Adrien: Seriously don’t move. Just hang on. 10… 9… 8…**

Marinette pursed her lips as she tried to decipher his text message. 

**Adrien: Go to the front entrance. 7… 6… 5…**

She did as she was told. A few brave snowflakes were just starting to fall to the pavement from spotty clouds above. Her phone chimed again.

**Adrien: Grab your coat and hat. 4… 3… 2…**

Marinette’s stomach did a backflip. He was planning something! She pulled her coat from the rack near the door, then looked outside just in time to see a magnificent horse-drawn carriage pull up in front of the Children’s Center, with Adrien standing inside, looking cozy and gorgeous in a rich green coat and matching scarf. She opened the door and walked out, her jaw slack and her eyes popping.

“One,” he winked. “I heard my Princess was starving, so here I am, your knight in shining armor. Well, winter coat.”

She giggled and walked up to the gorgeous horses. “Same difference,” she teased at him. 

He jumped down from the carriage and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and joined her in patting the horses. “Do you have time for a little dinner break? I promise I’ll bring you back here soon enough and help you through the rest of the evening work. But right now, you need to be swept away for a little R & R.”

Marinette gazed up into those warm green eyes. “Go Marinette, have fun!” someone said from behind her. She whipped around and saw several of the Children’s Center staff just outside the doorway. Apparently, the carriage had attracted more attention than just hers.

“Yeah, we’ve totally got this covered. You deserve it!” 

Marinette stroked the horse’s long grey neck, then giggled, “OK, why not?” 

Adrien fist-pumped the air and held his hand out to help Marinette climb up to the carriage. She had one foot in, before she paused, “Hang on,” she ran over to Juliette, one of the staff from the Center, and pressed her phone into Juliette’s hand. “So I won’t be tempted,” Marinette winked. Juliette gave a knowing nod and playfully pushed Marinette back to the carriage. 

“Have a great time, you two!” she encouraged.

“We will,” Adrien promised, then helped Marinette settle into the wide, soft seat. He cozied up next to her and pulled a thick Sherpa blanket over their legs. Under the covers, he intwined their fingers. The carriage driver clicked his tongue and the horses strained against their harnesses, and the carriage lunged forward. 

Marinette tucked her head under Adrien’s chin and sighed. “Thanks for rescuing me, my handsome prince.”

He chuckled, “My pleasure, Princess. You said you were hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted. 

“Well, you’re in luck,” he grinned, and the horses clip-clopped them up the street to a cart selling crepes. Adrien had the driver stop, jumped out, and ordered several varieties. Marinette’s stomach was grumbling when Adrien clambered back into the carriage, now laden with six plates of crepes. Marinette thanked the vendor, and the carriage started forward again. Marinette took the first few bites hastily in an attempt to stay the persistent growling of her stomach, but soon relaxed enough to enjoy the different varieties of crepes. 

“Mm,” she hummed, “this is _so_ good. Adrien, you’ve got to try this one,” she said. “It’s smoked salmon and hollandaise with fresh dill and chives.” She put another bite in her mouth and closed her eyes as the creamy lemon sauce coated her tongue. 

Adrien snuck in with his fork and tried a bite. “Yeah, that’s divine. But try this one,” he said, scooping up a fork full of the crepe on his lap and holding it to her lips. He’d never fed her before. In fact, no man had ever fed her before. He was just sitting there, smiling, waiting for her to eat from his fork, clueless to the fact that she was squealing internally. She licked her lips slightly and then sucked the crepe from his fork. 

“Wow,” she breathed, and not just because of the incredible flavors.

“I know, right?”

“What is that—mushroom pate and ham? With tarragon?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Were you stalking me when I picked out the flavors?”

She shook her head and giggled, “No, I just grew up with food.”

“So did I,” he responded, “but apparently even Paris’ finest personal chef didn’t compare to Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng.”

She giggled and snuck a few bites of the mushroom crepe. The carriage made it to Trocadero and started a lazy loop around the Eiffel Tower. The sun was lowering in the cloud-speckled winter sky and the lights were coming on, casting long, pink shadows across Adrien’s face as they trundled along. 

“So,” Marinette started, trying to make conversation between bites of the phenomenal crepes, “did you finish everything you needed to today, you know, with the business and all that?”

He swallowed and nodded, “I think so. It’s been a smoother process than I anticipated, so that’s good.”

She hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her, “It’s ok if you can’t tell me, but—what’s really happening? Are you ok?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “You’re ok, that’s just fine. I’m… I’m leaving _Gabriel._ ”

“Oh,” she yelped in shock. “But… Adrien, that’s a really big deal. You’ve been working there since… since…”

He rolled his eyes, “Since I was six. Child model turned teenage heartthrob turned face of the company turned owner,” he finished flatly, with a bitter note to his voice. “And never once did I put pen on paper for a single design.”

She shook her head, “That doesn’t matter. You’re good at what you do; you deserve to be where you’re at. But only if you want to!” she tacked on hastily. “Sounds like you don’t want to, though.”

He finished off the crepe stuffed with steak and pink peppercorn sauce and placed one of the sweet varieties between them so they could both enjoy it. “It’s complicated. The company has been a more stable part of my life than a lot of things—more stable than my Father ever was, at least. And while fashion has never been my passion, like you said, I was good at it. _Am_ good at it. I know the industry; I know the business. When I struck out on my own, I fully intended to start afresh—new career, new education, new Adrien. But all I really got was a new city. After a few months, I realized how difficult it really is to reinvent yourself.” He sighed before continuing, “I reasoned with myself that it wasn’t the company that I hated, it was my Father, and the money couldn’t be beat, so I took a couple modeling jobs, hoping that New York fashion would be better.”

His voice trailed off. Marinette took a bite of her cinnamon and vanilla sugar crepe, then prompted, “And was it?”

He shrugged, “Not really. Still, it was the only life I knew, and I convinced myself that it was different this time, because I was my own man and I was calling the shots. I wasn’t, but when you lie to yourself for long enough, you start to believe it.”

Marinette’s heart ached for him. She squeezed his arm softly, “Adrien, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you hated modeling so much.”

He smiled sadly, “I wouldn’t say hate. There were parts I really liked. I made a few friends, and I got more responsibilities at the company, and the Agreste name still carried a lot of weight, so I moved up. I kept thinking that the next promotion, the next project, the next year would be better, and that I’d find the fulfillment I was looking for. 

“I was feeling pretty stuck in my life, but there was one thing I did that not very many people knew about—I started taking online classes at New York University. I worked on them mostly at night, and I was doing well in them. Like, _really_ well. When I finished my Bachelor’s degree, one of my professors practically begged me to join his physics program, and offered me a work/study to help design some online coursework. Marinette,” he said, his eyes going a little misty, “I fell in love.”

She grinned. “The next two years were phenomenal. Teaching physics is my calling. I TA’d for a couple classes, and then I even got to have my own class. I _loved_ it. The classroom is this amazing place.”

She grinned broadly to see his enthusiasm change. “I wish I could have seen it!”

“When the students started arriving, I was terrified. I was basically their same age; how I was supposed to teach them? But once we started talking about Newton’s Laws of Motion and how it’s these basic, simple laws that govern the way the entire universe moves, it was like this change came over the whole classroom. And one time at the end of class, this sweet middle-aged woman came up to me and told me that she’d never understood physics until my class, and I was able to mentor her as she completed her degree, and… oh, Marinette, I was hooked!”

She wrapped her hands around his bicep and squeezed, “I’m so happy for you! So that’s why you’re leaving _Gabriel,_ to start teaching full time?”

The dopey smile on his face faded a bit, “Well, it got complicated, because I was also seeing Jacqueline and she…she didn’t like the idea of me becoming a professor that much. So I kept modeling, kept TA-ing, barely talked about school at all, and after my Master’s hooding, that future kind of faded.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette sobbed, “don’t say that. It’s not too late. It’s never late to pursue something you love. You’re not with Jacqueline anymore, so you can start applying for doctorate programs and find out what’s available. Or, I’ll bet you don’t even need a doctorate, at least not right away! I can help you—we can look for scholarships or grants. I’m sure with as much experience you already have we can find—” He cut her off with a kiss to the lips. “What was that for?”

“For supporting me,” he said simply, before leaning in again, this time lingering a little longer. His lips were soft and sweet, and she stroked his cheek softly as he kissed her again and again.

“So,” she muttered after he pulled back, “you’re leaving the company now to pursue your dream of teaching physics.”

“Basically.”

She grinned, “That’s just so amazing and brave. I’m so proud of you. How’s everyone in the company taking it?”

He shrugged, “Like I said, better than I feared. I really didn’t want to make a big fuss about this. It was hard enough when my Father got… when he left. The business really suffered, and I’ve been afraid that if I leave, it’ll completely crumble.”

She worried her lower lip with her teeth, “I’m sure there’s wonderful people there to pick up the mantle.”

“That’s the goal,” he said, frowning, “but it’s still not going to be completely seamless. My biggest fear is that people would get hurt. I want to _help_ people, not find out they lost their job and are facing homelessness now, you know?”

She investigated his brilliant green gaze and melted. “Adrien, that’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever heard another person say.”

He looked down at his clasped hands, “Well, it’s the truth.”

“I’m sure things will go exactly as they’re meant to. You can’t blame yourself for every problem that comes up in the future. It’s neither true nor fair.”

His face softened once more and he enjoyed some of the chocolate crepe. “Marinette, where were you all these years? I really could have used that advice like… seven years ago.”

Marinette’s heart clenched. She would have _loved_ to give him that advice seven years ago. “It works out like it’s meant to,” she reiterated. “Seven years ago wasn’t the right time, for either of us.”

He nodded dully. “I suppose that’s true. Even though I’m just now realizing how much I could have had, I never would have appreciated it if I hadn’t had all those years of figuring myself out.”

She nodded, “I know what you mean. Like, after Papa was diagnosed with cancer, I thought my life was ending. But these last few months have been amazing as I’ve been helping run the bakery. While I miss school terribly, I’m glad for them.”

He pulled her even closer to him. “Your father is a wonderful man, and I know I said it before, but I’m amazed at how much you’ve done. I’m not sure I could say the same thing if my father was in need.”

She scoffed and pulled back a bit, “That’s a totally unfair comparison. Your father is in prison and rightfully so. He is _not_ a good person.”

He gaped for a moment. “Marinette,” he breathed.

“Sorry,” she corrected, flailing with her hands, “I shouldn’t have said that. That was judgmental of me.”

“No, don’t apologize,” he hastily added. “He’s _not_ a good man. He was freaking Hawkmoth, for crying out loud! He terrorized the city for years!”

Marinette surveyed Adrien again, his flushed cheeks, his hard-set jaw, his tight fists. “But that wasn’t the worst of it,” she muttered. “The worst part was that he hurt you.”

He sucked in the cold night air and held it. “He hurt a lot of people—”

“Don’t.” She commanded. “Don’t brush off what he did to you.”

Adrien started shaking and squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re right. I have a hard time talking about this, because it’s still too painful.”

“It’s ok, Adrien. You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“That’s the thing, though, I _am_ ready. I have been ready for a long time. But nobody really wants to talk to me. When I would try talking to Jacqueline about it, she grew up in New York; she didn’t know what it was like here. And she always reminded me how privileged I was to grow up in a rich and well-connected family, even if my father was ‘less than loving.’” 

“She really said that?” Marinette snapped, before clamping her mouth shut, “Sorry,” she muttered from behind her fingers, “I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

He smiled grimly and nodded, “It’s fine; yes, she really said that. Gosh,” he growled at himself, running his fingers through hair nervously, “I should have broken up with her _ages_ ago. How could I have been so blind?”

She rubbed his thigh underneath the warm blanket, “Don’t blame yourself, Adrien, remember?”

He shook the memories from his head, “You’re right. I just don’t know how to go about this, you know? I don’t know how to open up.”

She squeezed his hand encouragingly, “You’re doing really well.”

He smiled at her softly, stole a quick kiss, then closed his eyes and took a slow breath to steady himself. “I need you to understand that I never knew. I never knew he was Hawkmoth until the day that L-Ladybug and Ch-Ch—until he was unmasked.” Marinette’s eyes prickled, but she forced herself to keep her tears at bay. Adrien needed her to be strong right now. “He was always a cold person. He was a brilliant person, but he wasn’t a loving father. I cherished the good moments, however few and far between. But I honestly didn’t know him very well. Especially after mother disappeared—I got maybe fifteen minutes for a quick breakfast with him once every couple weeks. Most of the time all our communication was a conference call over Nathalie’s tablet. I didn’t mind. That’s probably the worst part—I didn’t care at all that I never saw him. Not once I had friends at school. Even then, I felt guilty that I didn’t mind not seeing him.”

“Adrien,” Marinette interjected softly, “you shouldn’t feel guilty—”

He shrugged, “But I did, and I do. I knew he was hurting and struggling as much as I was, and I let him drift away. I let him hurt other people and I was so self-absorbed that I never noticed that I was living with a magical terrorist.”

Marinette snagged Adrien’s cheeks in her palms and shook her head fervently, “Stop it, this instant! _He_ was the parent, not you! You were not and are not self-absorbed! I knew you then, remember? You did everything right. You respected him, you honored his wishes, you never put a toe out of line!”

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t say that…”

She scoffed, “So you snuck out of the house a few times?”

“More than a few,” he admitted, making Marinette chuckle despite herself.

“Adrien,” she scolded, “you could have torn up the town, been a drug-addict playboy, you could have spent your entire family fortune on porn and booze, and you _still_ wouldn’t be responsible for the way he behaved.”

Adrien halted, put his hand over his quivering lips, then tentatively reached out and touched her cold cheek. “Really?”

She nodded, “Really. But you didn’t. You had every right to become a monster yourself, and you didn’t. You were kind and smart and brave. Why else do you think I had an embarrassingly massive crush on you for years?”

He chuckled and wiped away the tears that had escaped down his cheeks, “I’m glad that’s what you remember of me.”

She cleared the empty plates to one side and climbed into Adrien’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t have to remember. You’re still the same way.” She kissed him, pouring her admiration and respect into the touch. He responded by deepening the kiss and then nuzzling his forehead into her neck. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” After a beat of just holding each other, Adrien chuckled, “I was supposed to be your knight in shining armor and instead _you’re_ the one saving me!”

She leaned back and kissed his nosed softly, “That’s the thing with knights and princes and princesses—the best ones save each other.”


	11. Courthouse Realizations

Adrien shivered and flipped up the collar on his coat to protect his neck. He hugged his chest and tried to think warm thoughts as he waited for the clerk to arrive. _Hot chocolate. Cozy firesides. A bowl of cassoulet or coq-au-vin. Blankets. Warm hugs. Warm hugs from Marinette. Snuggling with Marinette. Cooking with Marinette. Helping Marinette in the bakery. Watching Marinette sketch._ Anything _with Marinette._ As Marinette’s bright, smiling face filled his vision, Adrien felt like sunshine was pouring straight into his soul. It did the trick—his toes were thawing, and his cheeks flushed. Adrien smiled—it was amazing how it hadn’t even been two weeks, and already Marinette had this incredible effect on him. 

They’d seen each other every day since their ice-skating date. Adrien couldn’t get enough of her. She made him laugh, but they could have deep conversations too. But they didn’t just spend their time snuggling and talking; Marinette was involved. The Winter Gala was less than a day away, and Marinette had enough work that it kept them both busy until late every night. Still, she managed to find time to rise early every morning to make dozens of loaves of bread, hundreds of macarons, cakes, tarts, and chocolates to stock the festive display cases of the bakery. Adrien was enthralled by her. He was exhausted after a week of just trying to help, and yet she still pressed on with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. The last few days had been enlightening, and Adrien felt fuller and more satisfied with his life than he thought possible. He still knew he wanted to complete his doctorate and teach physics at a collegiate level, but he now knew he wanted to work on his baking and cooking skills, and he was determined to help with local charities and events. He was so excited for the Winter Gala and seeing all the children receive their gifts, that he hadn’t even thought about the day after that and the looming plane ride back to New York. 

“Adrien Agreste?” a short woman with spiky blonde hair asked.

“That’s me,” he acknowledged.

“You can come in now, we’re ready.” 

Adrien entered the courthouse—grateful to be out of the cold—and was led to a conference room where the board of directors from _Gabriel_ were already convening. It was going to be a long, dull day. 

Soon, they were in the thick of the meetings Adrien had flown to Paris to attend in person. Adrien listened. Well, not really, but he pretended to. Ok, so he spent most of the day with glassy eyes and one-word answers. His mind was fixated on Marinette and solving the puzzle of what to do when he went back to New York in two days. One thing was for sure—now that he’d found her, he wanted her in his life. But it was unfair to ask her to be in a long-distance relationship… or was it? He ultimately determined he had to ask her. She should be the one to decide if she was willing to date a guy who lived an ocean away.

Unless he _didn’t_ live an ocean away… But he wasn’t ready to move back to Paris. Even though nothing waited for him in New York except a massive, cold apartment off Central Park and a few acquaintances that he called friends. It was just that moving was so _huge._ And moving for Marinette was really, really fast.

But it didn’t feel fast at all. Being with Marinette felt different. Adrien was realizing that their relationship had started ten years ago as a friendship, and the last week was just a continuation of that. But even all that didn’t accurately describe the connection he shared with Marinette. It was like they’d always been closer than friends, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. Like when they were ice skating and they fell into hypnotic synchronicity—it was like they knew what the other person was thinking. And the ice skating wasn’t the only time it had happened that week. When Adrien helped in the bakery, it was more like dancing than cooking. No, not dancing… more like martial arts. Yes, it was like doing Tai Chi with her. It was powerful and strong, and while they had not rehearsed it, it was like they had both trained for it for years. When Adrien brought up this synergy to Marinette, she had blushed and acknowledged it as well, but had no better explanation other than that she’d watched him more than she cared to admit. 

Yep, Adrien was hooked. He loved being with Marinette, and he wanted her in his life. He needed to talk to her about the future, but in the here and now, he just wanted to enjoy the time he had. He liked her. He really, really liked her. _He loved her._

 _Whoa, slow down there Agreste. It’s been a week._ Some people knew in a week, right? _Take it easy. You’ll scare her if you move that fast._ She hadn’t said whether or not she was still in love with him. _But that’s not her job; she doesn’t have to say it first. This is about figuring yourself out, regardless of how she feels._ But was he? Was he really in love with Marinette? Could people fall in love that fast? _You fell in love with Ladybug in a day. And Marinette has been there for years._

“Well, if there’s nothing further, I think that’ll be it. If you all could just sign your papers, and Harold, if you could finish up on that assessment, we’ll call it a day.”

Adrien looked up as the clerk pushed the last few papers in front of him. He signed, feeling a bit guilty that he’d daydreamed the whole meeting away. It was a good thing his counsel was solid. Adrien thanked the board members and the clerk, and texted Nino. The two of them had planned a bro’s night, since Marinette and Alya were both busy with the last few preparations for the Gala. Nino responded right away—he was in the area and would be to the courthouse soon. Adrien gathered up his belongings and started wandering the halls. He had paused to look at a bank of photographs when a dark blur in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He whipped around just in time to see Marinette march through heavy mahogany doors. He followed her instinctively; she hadn’t seen him there. 

“Excuse me, sir,” the deputy put out a hand to pause Adrien, “This is for witnesses only. If you’d like to watch, though, the gallery is open.

“The gallery?” he asked.

“Yes, this is an open hearing. You can head through those doors down there, if you’d like.”

“Oh, thank you,” Adrien responded, and shot a quick text to Nino telling his friend what he was doing, even though he was unsure what exactly that was. Marinette was going into a hearing, as a witness? Why? She hadn’t said anything about being in court today. Not that she had to; he trusted her, and she didn’t need to share every line item on her schedule with him. 

Nino arrived just as Adrien was entering the gallery. He waved at his friend, and the two settled into the bench. “What are we doing?” Nino whispered.

“It’s an open hearing,” Adrien responded, as if that cleared everything up.

The deputy announced the opening of the session and the judge entered. Soon, the court was settled, and lawyers were making statements. Apparently, this was an adoption case. A young couple was planning on adopting a twelve-year-old boy, whose only living parent had just been incarcerated. The issue with the adoption was that the would-be-mother was twenty-six, and they were still in the process of proving that the boy’s biological father was neglectful. Adrien could only see the back of the boy’s head, but his heart ached for him. It felt painfully familiar—only one parent, and a neglectful one at that. He wondered what it would have been like if someone had offered to adopt him back when he was a young teenager. But then again, the state hadn’t gotten involved. And Gabriel couldn’t legally be called neglectful. He was cold, he was hurtful, but he wasn’t neglectful. Still, Adrien found himself rooting for the boy and the adoptive parents, who seemed the best kind of people in the world. 

They called witnesses. Nobody spoke for very long. First, the adoptive parents talked about the time they’d had with the boy, and how much they cared for him. It was very moving. Next, an officer talked about the living conditions the boy had been left in. That was hard to hear. Then, the lawyer stated, “We call Marinette Dupain-Cheng as a character witness for Madame and Monsieur Chapelle.”

Adrien sat up in his seat as Marinette came in and took the stand. Her voice was kind and focused as she talked about her relationship with the Chapelles. “I met Yannick and Patrice six years ago through my work with the Children’s Center. They started out as volunteers, Patrice was still in University, just trying to get some real-world experience. But as they started battling their own war with infertility, their time at the Children’s Center became a time they cherished. We started calling them the teenager-whisperers, because they had a particular connection with the teens at the center.

“When Travis, then age nine, was first referred to the Center, the connection with the Chapelles was instant and obvious. They’ve been there for Travis since the second they met him. Everyone knew that this was more than just a volunteer situation, this was the start of a family.”

Adrien watched as Marinette was asked a few questions about the financial ability of the Chapelles to care for a teenager, a little more about their time volunteering, and Marinette talked about getting to know the Chapelles away from the Children’s Center. Then, the line of questions took a strange turn, and Adrien leaned forward, not wanting to miss a thing:

“And why have _you_ been volunteering at the Children’s Center for the last seven years, Mademoiselle? It must be hectic, volunteering so frequently and still balancing your studies and career ambitions.”

Marinette blinked, “I’m not sure what that has to do with the Chapelles—”

“Please answer the question.”

“Well,” she started, “so that we’re clear, I’m taking a break from my University education. I’m sure that doesn’t speak well for my validity—”

“That’s not a problem, Mademoiselle. The question was why have you been volunteering at the Children’s Center?”

Marinette hesitated for a moment, then looked down at her hands, “I knew a boy when I was just a girl. He… he came from a home like Travis came from. His mother was missing for years and finally discovered, dead. His father was… was horrible. I didn’t get to know him as well as I should have, and even when I saw the way his father was treating him, I was too enamored with this boy to realize how much he was suffering. When I finally came to my senses, I felt horrible that I hadn’t said anything or done anything to improve his life. I promised myself that I’d never let a child live like that again—not under my watch. So, I volunteer at the Children’s Center, and I work with adoption agencies around Paris to help get kids in homes where they are loved and cared for. This is important to me, and even though it’s tight, I will never abandon these children the way I abandoned that boy all those years ago. They all deserve so much more.”

“Thank you for your testimony, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” the lawyer said. “No further questions.”

Nino nudged Adrien, who’s jaw was hanging open. “Dude,” Nino breathed, “I think she was talking about you, man.”

Adrien wiped a tear from his cheek and nodded slightly, “I’m sure she was.”

Marinette exited the court room, never once noticing that Adrien and Nino were in the gallery, and Adrien had a hard time listening to the rest of the case. _Marinette volunteered at the Children’s Center, she spent all that time working with the kids, she was doing the fundraiser Gala, everything, for him?_ Of course she would blame herself for his teenage years—that was classic Marinette. He frowned to himself—she had a habit of catastrophizing and then self-flagellating over things that were beyond her control. He typically found this habit adorable, but now he felt guilty. She had spent years beating herself up for something that was _so_ not her fault. But the guilt wasn’t as deep as it should have been; even deeper, even stronger than the guilt was a burning sensation swelling in his breast. _She did this for him._

Marinette had once said that she used to be in love with him, back when they were in lycee together. She hadn’t clarified if she still felt that way. Her kisses and her flirts sure felt like she was. But this? This was deeper than a teenage crush. People didn’t upend their whole lives for teenage crushes. People didn’t devote thousands of volunteer hours in the name of a kid they liked when they were fourteen. 

“Adrien?” Nino said. Adrien rubbed his eyes. Nino and the rest of the people in the gallery were standing up and slowly filing out. Adrien stood too. 

“What happened? Are the Chapelles going to be able to adopt Travis? Sorry, I zoned out there.”

Nino gave a scrutinous look to his friend, “Yeah, you did. You ok? Oh, yes, Travis is going to be fine. Everyone’s so happy. But, ever since Marinette said… what she said, you were like a deer in the headlights.”

Adrien stood and scrubbed his face with his hands, “Can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t. Wanna talk about it?” Adrien sighed and nodded slowly. “Come on, I’ve got us a reservation.”

“I just can’t believe she would do all that for me—she did all that for me,” Adrien muttered as the two men walked out of the courthouse and down the street to their restaurant. “Did you know? Did you know she was doing that for me?”

Nino shrugged, “I didn’t know that was the reason specifically, but it’s not a surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

Nino looked uncomfortable, “She told you she liked you, back in college, right?”

“I think her exact words were that she used to be in love with me.” Adrien chuckled fondly.

Nino nodded, “Alya had to spell it out to me, because I was denser than a brick—”

“Not as dense as I was, apparently—”

“Doesn’t matter. But dude, I think neither of us really understood the depth of Marinette’s feelings. Marinette has a big heart.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And when she loves someone, she _really_ loves them. I got to understand a little bit of that, though never in a romantic way. She is _such_ a great friend. Like, remember back in college, remember Lila?”

“Ugh, yes,” Adrien groaned.

“I didn’t realize until years after the fact, but Lila was lying about… well, basically everything. But worse, Lila was bullying Marinette pretty bad. And Marinette just took it, because she wanted to protect her friends. Marinette was always the first one to volunteer to help and the last one to leave. Oh sure, she could be hot headed sometimes, but she would always come through in the end.”

Adrien nodded, “I know all that. But that was for her friends in the here and now. I haven’t been here for seven years, and she’s still been devoting all that time to help the Children’s Center in _my_ honor.”

Nino shrugged, “Like I said, that’s Marinette. She loved you, and loving you changed her forever. She didn’t give away her heart lightly, and when she did, it meant more than it does for other people.”

Adrien’s stomach sunk, “Well, I feel like a total chump. There she was, making life changes, finding a cause that she’s devoted to, and loving me, and I couldn’t see past my crush on Ladybug to notice her.”

“Hey, man,” Nino scowled, “don’t be so hard on yourself. You were always a great friend.”

 _“A very good friend,”_ Adrien mocked himself. “Dang, that must have killed her.”

Nino nodded slowly as they got settled into their table at the restaurant. “Yeah, it did.”

“Thanks,” Adrien grumbled.

“But it also made her stronger.”

Adrien examined his menu while he tried to swallow the bitter pill that he’d hurt a girl who meant so much to him. “I need to make it up to her.”

Nino surveyed Adrien over his glasses, “What you got in mind?”

“Well, I need to apologize, for starters.”

“For being a complete dunce for ten years? Good start.”

“I dunno, Nino, nothing feels like enough!”

“Have you got her a Christmas gift?”

Adrien rolled his eyes, “Come _on,_ man, no gift is going to make up for _that_ big of a mistake.”

The server brought them glasses of water and the two men ordered quickly, then Nino leaned across the table, “Tell her you love her.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped, “Are you kidding me?”

“You do, don’t you?”

“I uh… I don’t… um…”

Nino raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Don’t lie to yourself, now, Adrien.”

Adrien kept spluttering, “But it’s only been a week!”

“Dude. It’s been _ten frigging years!_ ”

Adrien sat back in his chair and rubbed his neck, “I… you’re right… but I’m…” he gulped, “I just _barely_ broke up with Jacqueline. I don’t want Marinette to think she’s a rebound.”

Nino laughed, “ _Jacqueline_ was the rebound. Marinette is not. Nope, the question is simple—do you love her?”

Adrien ignored the gut reaction trying to explode from his mouth. “I… I don’t know. I don’t want to get this one wrong.”

Nino looked at him, “Ok man, I know you’ve been burned more times than is fair, and you didn’t exactly have a loving home as a kid, so let’s talk through it. Do you think about her first thing when you wake up and last thing before you go to sleep?”

Adrien nodded, “And every second in between.”

“Do you get sick of being with her?”

Adrien frowned, “Never! In fact, not even when we were friends, back in lycee. I always looked forward to spending time with Marinette.”

“Good sign, good sign. What do you like most about her?”

Adrien pondered briefly, “I love her laugh and how smart she is. It’s like hanging out with pure sunshine.”

Nino surveyed Adrien, “Interesting. I thought you were going to say her lips or something.”

Adrien chuckled, “Well, those are _not_ bad either.”

Nino laughed and rolled his eyes. “Not bad lips. Good to know. Adrien,” he leaned a little closer, “what do you hope for in the future? What do you envision with Marinette?” Adrien sat back, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples for a minute. Nino tagged on, “What’s the matter, was that too hard of a question?”

“No,” Adrien responded, “that’s just it. I can see a future with Marinette more perfectly than I ever could with any of the other girls in my life. With Marinette, it’s easy. We’re friends first. We flirt and make everyone around us uncomfortable. We love each other passionately and completely. We have a great house with a yard, three cute kids, some pets, probably a hamster, I teach university, she designs, and we complete each other like a yin and yang. Where I am weak, she is talented. Where I lack, she is strong. And I spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her.”

Nino was quiet for so long that Adrien peeked through an eyelid. “Dude. That was… that was…”

Adrien gulped, his heart latching on to that vision with force. Now that he’d said it out loud, there was no denying it. “I know, I know,” Adrien admitted, much to Nino’s delight, “I’m in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, I'm not a lawyer, I'm not French, I'm just a fanfiction writer. I'm sure there's a lot of issues with this chapter and how things played out in the courtroom scenes. The entirety of my understanding of how the French adoption and legal system works can be summed up in a 2.6 minute Google search, so please go easy on me! It's about the fluff! And considering my single Google search is still more research than half the cheesy Christmas Hallmark specials you'll find, I'm thinking I'm doing pretty well. ;) (nothin' but love for those great movies.)


	12. Under the Christmas Tree

Nino and Adrien brainstormed eleven viable contingency plans that night for how to tell Marinette that Adrien was in love with her. Plan A was by far the most romantic but was reliant upon Andre’s Ice Cream cart being positioned at the Trocadero when Adrien and Marinette came through on the way to the Winter Gala. However, especially when Marinette was involved, Adrien knew to expect the unexpected, and this was far too important to mess up. This time felt different than the other girls Adrien had dated. He hated himself for using the words “I love you” with Jacqueline. He wished he’d saved them so this would be the only time he’d ever use them. But he swallowed that bitter pill and was determined to do better this time. This time was different—this time wasn’t a façade or a rebound. This time wasn’t marked with doubts and questions and tests, like it had been with Jacqueline. This time was real and requited, and he couldn’t wait to see what the future held, now that he was certain Marinette would be a part of it.

Only one problem: out of eleven contingency plans, none of them included Marinette being nowhere to be found. 

He thought he’d made it to the bakery early enough, but Sabine was manning the till when he arrived. “Adrien, dear! How nice to see you,” she’d said with a warm smile.

“Is Marinette here? I really wanted to talk to her before we went over to set up for the Gala.”

“I’m afraid she left a couple hours ago. Poor thing, I don’t think she got a wink of sleep last night, but all the holiday orders were finished when I took over. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah,” Adrien mused absentmindedly, “she’s amazing. Any idea where she went?”

Sabine shook her head, “No, I thought she was going to meet you somewhere?”

“We hadn’t made that plan, no.”

“Well,” Sabine shrugged, “knowing Marinette, she probably went to try to secure a few more donations for the fundraiser tonight. She was really concerned they wouldn’t meet their goal.”

Adrien chewed his lip, “Ok. Well, I guess I’ll head down to the Center and see if she’s there.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate the help, wherever she is. Would you care for a croissant, before you go?”

Adrien’s mouth filled with saliva as he looked at the croissants. “Oh Madame Cheng—”

“ _Please,_ Adrien—”

“Sabine, sorry, you know I can’t refuse a croissant.” Adrien took the flaky pastry and sunk his teeth in. “Oh, wow,” he moaned in delight, “that never gets old.”

She grinned. Just then, the door from the residence above opened and Tom appeared, hobbling down the stairs slowly. “Sabine,” he said, “Do you know where the—oh, Adrien, how nice to see you, son!”

Adrien’s smile beamed at Tom. “Monsieur! You’re up!”

“Adrien,” Tom’s voice was warning.

“I know, I can’t get him to use my name either,” Sabine groaned. 

“I’m glad to see you’re eating a croissant,” Tom noted. “Marinette’s almost as good as I am at croissants.”

Adrien was eager to go find the love of his life, but as he swallowed and looked from Tom to Sabine to his croissant and back to Marinette’s parents, the opportunity knocked him across the head. “Tom, Sabine, actually, now that I’m here and you’re both here… I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Oh really, what’s that dear?” Sabine asked.

“I’m… I’m… wow, this is tricky—”

“You’re in love with our daughter?” Tom prompted, his eyes widening and beginning to water.

Adrien chuckled, “How does everyone know that before I do?”

Sabine hugged Tom’s middle, “Oh, what a beautiful Christmas surprise.”

“I guess I wanted to ask you for your permission… or blessing… or something. Just let you know that I love her and I want to be with her, and I promise I’ll never hurt her—”

Tom held up a pale hand. “Don’t promise something you can’t keep, son.”

“But I _do_ promise never to hurt her—”

Tom smiled and shook his head softly, “If you love her, really love her, you’re going to hurt her at some point. But if you really, and I mean _really_ love her, what you’ll promise is to never leave her hurting.”

Sabine nodded, “Yes. And you won’t promise to always stay with her, but rather promise to give her both the space and the support she needs to succeed.”

Tom smiled softly at his wife before turning back to Adrien, “You won’t promise to provide everything, you’ll only promise to respect her and be open and honest, even when you screw up. Because you _will_ screw up.”

Sabine chuckled, “And when you do, you’ll promise to apologize and try again.”

“So, Adrien, do you think you can promise those things?”

Adrien hesitated. “I… I love her so much. But you’re right. I’m human, she’s human, and tough times will happen. But when I imagine facing those tough times without Marinette, I feel like I’m crumbling inside. I want to be there for her, and I want to share my whole life with her. Is that… is that ok?”

Tom and Sabine looked at each other for a moment, expressing something to each other in a single look that only the other person understood. Adrien had searched his whole life for someone he could communicate with like that. He’d had something like that with Ladybug—that unspoken connection—but that had ended when he’d left his ring on the top of the Eiffel Tower. Now, however, he’d found that kind of intimacy again in Marinette. When Tom and Sabine turned back to Adrien, Sabine immediately said, “Yes, dear, that’s—”

“Adrien?” Tom interjected, “Are you alright? You look like you’re on the verge of tears!”

“I’m fine,” Adrien managed huskily, “I just realized where Marinette learned to love like she does. You two are… you are amazing parents.”

Sabine gave a surprised smile and Tom puffed out his chest in pride, “Come here, you,” he commanded, and Adrien was pulled into a huge group hug. “You know we’ll support anything Marinette chooses, and you don’t need our permission to date her or marry her or start a family or whatever you want to do. That’s her choice. But, for what it’s worth, you’re already my son.”

“Agreed,” Sabine choked out from behind her tears. “No matter what she decides, you’ll always be welcome here.”

They held each other for several more seconds, before Adrien pulled back, “Ok, I’m going to go find her, and I’m going to tell her that I’m in love with her.”

“Alright, son, you can do it!” Tom clapped Adrien on the back. Sabine gave him two thumbs-up, and Adrien waved a jaunty goodbye before racing out the door and hailing a taxi to take him to the Children’s Center. He sent Marinette a text (‘Hey gorgeous, are you already at the Center? Just wondering if I could sneak you away for a quick lunch before it gets too busy’), but Marinette didn’t reply. Adrien didn’t worry. She was probably swamped with last minute adjustments, or like Sabine had said, she’d gone out to schmooze donors. However, when Adrien arrived at the Children’s Center, he was taken aback. There was a huge crowd in the street around the massive Christmas tree. The news crew was there, along with several other reporters and paparazzi. Next to the tree, a platform had been set up. Adrien recognized a few of the staff members that they’d been working with all week, but everyone was milling around and waiting. 

Adrien paid for the ride and then sauntered up to the crowd. Once he was among the other people, he could see there was a large group of children right next to the stage. The people of Paris had really come through—under the tree was stuffed with gifts. 

Adrien’s ears caught that familiar, heart-stopping sound, “Oh, Ladybug’s coming!” he gasped.

“What? Do you see her?”

“No, I can hear her,” he said, “Shh! Listen—” _zip zip zip._

“I don’t hear anything,” a reporter said gruffly.

“Up there!” One of the children screamed. It was better than Santa’s arrival—the crowd started cheering. Apparently, this was the moment they’d all been waiting for. Adrien smiled meekly as she appeared at the edge of a nearby building. She had used her ice powerup to give herself snow gear, and wore a fluffy Santa cap. 

“Hello, kids!” she cried, then threw her yo-yo and did several impressive summersaults in the air before landing on the platform. Adrien cheered with the rest of the crowd. Seeing her was giving Adrien an unexpected response; he felt warm and calm. Her letter still resided in his jacket pocket where Plagg once dwelled. That letter brought him peace; she forgave him and wanted him to be happy. That was his wish for her too. She looked happy today, though. In fact, she was absolutely glowing. Adrien had never seen Ladybug look so alive. Perhaps she’d found her own slice of happiness? She looked so much brighter than when he’d seen her just over a week ago, when she was tearfully hiding the letter under the tree… what could have happened in a week to lift her _that_ much? Whatever it was, Adrien was grateful. Ladybug deserved all the happiness in the world. 

Adrien was so caught up in watching Ladybug that he didn’t pay attention to what was happening. However, once the kids started coming on stage one at a time, it became clear that Ladybug was there to hand out the Christmas gifts under the tree. _Dang, Marinette should be here for this!_ After all, this was _her_ doing—oh, sure, Ladybug had made a pitch on television, but Marinette had organized the event and Adrien had seen firsthand how much work she’d put in. He looked around the crowd again and started circling the edge, hoping to find her familiar pink hat or her silky black hair. He came up short. The crowd of children was thinning, and Marinette was nowhere to be found. Adrien frowned. He pulled out his phone and snapped as many pictures as he could. If Marinette missed this, at least he’d have some good shots of Ladybug handing out gifts to show her later. 

The irony of the situation made Adrien laugh. Ten years ago, he would have been beside himself to see Ladybug right there. Or, perhaps he would have been on that stage as well, masked up, handing out gifts and cherishing every look Ladybug sent his way. Now, all he wanted was to find Marinette so he could congratulate her for her efforts. How strange! It wasn’t that he didn’t still care for her—he certainly did. And it wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive any more—she was still just as beautiful and intoxicating. It was just that what he felt for Marinette was so much bigger and so much more real than what he felt for Paris’ superheroine.

Ladybug was busy handing out gifts, but at one point she looked out over the crowd and caught Adrien’s gaze. She froze briefly. He waved hesitantly. Her smile lifted wider; she gave him a quick wave back, then returned to her work. Adrien could have sworn she nearly tripped over her own feet, and her voice definitely raised half an octave. Her response was strange—it wasn’t like she knew he had been Chat Noir all those years ago, why was she tensing up when she saw him? Adrien shrugged it off and tried to call Marinette. No response. Ladybug was handing out the last few gifts from under the tree. The news station was already packing up their cameras. Several families were leaving. Adrien turned to head to the Children’s Center; perhaps they could use his help setting up for the Gala that would be starting in just a few hours. He walked behind the platform, when he heard the helper who was pulling gifts out from under the tree say, “Ladybug, this one’s for _you._ ”

“Wait, for _me?”_ she gasped. Adrien whipped around to see the helper hand a hastily folded paper to Ladybug. She looked at it and turned it over in her hands. Adrien’s heart stopped beating. It was his letter. “Thanks,” she muttered and tucked the letter in her yo-yo, clearly planning on reading it later. 

“Well, that’s the end of them!”

Ladybug was waving and blowing kisses to the crowd as Adrien stood there, gaping like a fish. Ladybug had his letter. She was going to find out he was back in Paris. She was going to know he was sorry. 

Adrien didn’t know how to feel. All he knew was that he really, _really_ wanted to talk to Marinette. 


	13. The Turmoil of Marinette Dupain-Cheng

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After re-reading this chapter, I realized I've been kind of unclear with the timeline for this story. 
> 
> Ladybug and Chat Noir battled Hawkmoth for roughly 3 years, and defeated him shortly after they graduated Lycee. Adrien gave up the ring and left for New York directly after. He's been in New York for seven years, making it 10 years total since they first got their Miraculouses. In this story, they're ~24/25 years old. Timelines are important to me, even if they're not integral to the story; maybe they're important to you too?

Ladybug’s hands were shaking as she dropped her transformation, the white paper gripped tightly in her fingers. She recognized the way he wrote ‘Ladybug’ right away. She’d studied that word for years—reading and re-reading his last note to her, tracing her fingers over the letters, holding it and crying herself to sleep every night. She’d barely been able to keep herself together long enough to bid goodbye to the children and then get out of sight. He’d sent her a letter. _Chat Noir had sent her a letter._

_Dear Little Bug,_

_It’s me, Chat Noir._

_How can you know it’s me? I’m the only one who knows you’re madly clumsy, or at least were the first day we got our Miraculouses._

Marinette’s laugh spluttered through her tears. He didn't need to prove himself to her, but the memory of the first time she used her yo-yo and smacked straight into Chat Noir flooded her thoughts and warmed her heart. 

_I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I’m also really sorry I haven’t contacted you in seven years. Honestly, I didn’t know how. I’m mostly sorry I was so weak and left when you needed me most. You’re the best person I’ve ever met._

_I won’t ask for my Miraculous back—that ship has sailed, I know. I just hope you have found another partner that is worthy of you._

Marinette scoffed—replace him? Even if there had been a need, she never could have replaced Chat Noir. 

_I miss you too, but I’m safe and I’m getting better every day. I hope you can forgive me some day for abandoning you._

_Anyway, Merry Christmas. I hope, wherever you are, that you’re happy and your life is filled with love._

_From,_

_Chaton_

It was short. She wished there were more. But she didn’t care. He was alive, he was in Paris, and he was safe. He was alive! He was safe! The words continued echoing through her brain for several minutes. Her dear Chaton, her quirky, funny, brave, loyal, flirtatious, incredible partner was _alive._ She didn’t realize how overwhelming the fear that he was dead had been until it was lifted. She clutched the white paper to her breast and pinched her eyes shut, wishing that she could will him to sense her presence and feel her forgiveness. 

Marinette’s phone pinged rapidly—someone, or several someones, were texting her, and she was getting updates about the Gala no doubt, but she couldn’t breathe, let alone focus on anything else. Chat Noir was ok. _He was in Paris._ She needed to find him! She needed to see him! As soon as Marinette regained enough composure to think straight, she ran out from her hiding spot and into the street. Where was he? She started searching the faces of everyone she could see, as she had done for months after he left. The Ladybug part of her brain took over—where would he be? The only clue she had was that he’d left a note under the Christmas tree in front of the Children’s Center. That’s where she would start looking, then. He would be seven years older than when they last battled Hawkmoth, and she couldn’t rely on his acid green eyes or fluffy blonde hair to give him away—both could have been altered by the Miraculous transformation. No, she was looking for his quirky smile.

Marinette nearly plowed into several people. She twisted and dodged as she approached the enormous tree, her head whipping from side to side as she stared at each mouth in sight. She was desperate to find him, clutching at her hat, pleading with the universe to point her in the right direction, to find him and be able to see him again—

“Marinette?”

Oh that voice! It was so familiar it was haunting her from her past! She careened around, begging for it to be him. “Ch-ch-ch,” she tried to form words to call to him, but protecting her identity had been an integral part of her life for ten years, and so she held back. She was still among the general public; calling out for Chat Noir in a crowd like this was crazy. 

There were roaming bodies everywhere. She was being crushed in a sea of humanity and she couldn’t find him. She would _never_ find him. He had left the note, but he wasn’t here. He’d left her again! She’d never see him, never be able to say goodbye, never be able to tell him how much she cared. “No! Where _are you?_ ” She searched. “Where are you?” She wailed again, her stomach clinching into a knot and rising into her throat. 

“Marinette, I’m here,” his warm voice said, and his strong, gentle arms wrapped around her. She gasped and buried her nose into his chest. But it was wrong. Scratchy wool and stiff linen assaulted her skin where a cool supersuit should have been. There was no bell. There was no tail. She looked up into his face and _almost_ thought she saw his smile, but then as she blinked her eyes into focus, she frowned.

“Adrien?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair tenderly. She nearly collapsed and buried his head in his shirt again, frustration pouring into dry sobs. “Oh, Marinette, what’s the matter?” he gasped, scooping her up and carrying her away from the crowd, and to a planter box ledge where they could sit down. He didn’t put her down, he just held her, rocking softly, stroking her hair.

“Ch-Ch-Ch… I can’t find him!”

“What?” Adrien asked, “Who?”

Marinette hiccupped and wiped her nose, and quickly regained her faculties. She curled into Adrien. The way he was tenderly stroking her hair was really nice. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I j-just thought I found—never mind—”

“Marinette,” he crooned, his voice making his chest vibrate in a very comforting way, “you’re not ok. Please tell me. I want to help you.”

“Oh A-Adrien,” she gulped, looking up into his caring eyes, “you’re s-so wonderful.”

He chuckled, “Thanks, now do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

She took several more breaths, and when she at last felt steady, she rested her head on his shoulder and sheepishly responded, “I had a friend, a very good friend, a long time ago. But he disappeared and I haven’t heard from him in ages. I—I honestly was afraid he’d been killed or something horrible like that. But I just found out—” she gulped, the tears threatening, “—I just found out he’s alive, and in Paris, and ok.”

Adrien didn’t speak for a while, just sat there processing, still mindlessly stroking Marinette’s hair. “He… He’s…”

“I was going to look for him. But I don’t have any contact information. I guess I was hoping to just smack into him as I ran down the street,” she admitted, ashamedly. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He shook his head, “You don’t need to apologize, Marinette. I… I want to help you find him.”

She jerked backward so that she could look at him better. His face was warm, but sort of sad. “Adrien?”

He swallowed thickly and forced a smile, “You clearly care about him very much. I… I kind of assumed that when you said you’d been in love with me back in our teenage years, that I was the only one, but I—”

“Do you think I’m in _love_ with him?” she gasped, shaking her head vigorously, “It wasn’t like that! Not that he didn’t want it to be, or that he wasn’t attractive, but it really wasn’t like that. At least, not at the end. Not ever. No, not like that!” Her words tumbled out of her mouth in a torrent, and Adrien was clearly having a hard time keeping up, so she just kept insisting that it wasn’t like that. 

“Oh,” he responded, relaxing a little bit. “Because it’s ok if you want to be with him, I mean, I get that—”

“Adrien,” she insisted, calmer now, “He was a very good, very dear friend, but I’m not trying to find him so I can start up a romance. I just want to make sure he’s ok.” As green eyes met blue, he nodded in trust. “Besides,” Marinette continued, “I still don’t know where he is. I know he was in Paris, but it could have been weeks ago. I just… you caught me at just the wrong second, is all.”

He shook his head, “No, I believe I caught you at the exact _right_ second. You needed a friend, you needed someone to help you, someone to talk to. I’m quite honored that I was here for you.”

She leaned back and smiled at him weakly, “I do _not_ deserve you, M. Agreste.”

He kissed her tenderly, “Yes you do.” He held her until she stopped shaking. “So,” he said, “got any leads on your friend?”

She shook her head, “No, and that’s what makes this so hard.”

He nodded. “What were his usual haunts? That’s a pretty good place to start.”

Marinette looked up at the rooftops around her and nodded, “I could try, but I don’t know if he’ll go to the same places he did before.”

“True. But you still live in the same place, right? So, light a candle for him. I’m sure if your friendship was as deep as you say—”

“It was—”

“Then he’ll come to you.”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Adrien, I’ll do that.”

He rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Marinette, you are an amazing girl, do you know that?” She shrugged demurely. “You have such a big heart. This last week with you has been… like… like someone else’s life. Like, I didn’t know life could be this happy.”

Marinette’s stomach crept into her throat again. Was Adrien saying… was he about to confess…?

“Yesterday, I was at the—”

“Marinette, there you are!”

Marinette’s head snapped up and Alya was racing toward them. Marinette growled quietly. _Lousy timing, Alya._ “What do you need?” Marinette snapped. Adrien squeezed Marinette’s shoulders comfortingly. 

“We’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you! We’re missing about half the hardware for the stage, and Rose’s Kitty Section costume ripped a seam, and the Gala starts in two hours, and we didn’t know where you were and you weren’t answering your phone and you should have _seen_ the crowd at the gift ceremony and—wait, Marinette, are you crying? What’s the matter?”

Marinette sighed and looked up at Adrien, “I’m sorry,” she muttered. 

He smiled gently, “It’s ok. Let’s rock this Gala out, shall we?”

She nodded demurely as the two scrambled to their feet. “I’m fine, Alya,” Marinette insisted. Finding Chat Noir out here would have been like finding a needle in a haystack—no, harder. She promised herself that tonight, and every night for as long as it took, she would suit up and search for him. She would do what Adrien suggested—she’d make an extra croissant for him every day and hope that he came by the bakery, and she vowed that when he did, she’d lay her pride to the side and tell him exactly who she was. But today, now, she still needed to be Marinette. 

Adrien’s fingers locked around hers and she looked at them, her heart nearly skipping a beat. It thrilled her to no end that he still had that effect on her, even when she was anxious about Chat Noir, even when she couldn’t tell him everything, even when their tender moment had just been interrupted. What was he about to say? She needed to make it up to him—to apologize and give him her full attention. Maybe tonight after the Gala… No, what was she thinking? She had just _barely_ vowed to herself that tonight, Ladybug would prowl the streets and rooftops of Paris looking for her kitty. Marinette sighed to herself. She felt terribly confused and flustered. On one hand, there was Chat Noir, who still held half her heart, even if it wasn’t the romantic half. On the other hand, there was Adrien, who was, for the first time in years, very real and very present and _very_ romantic. Marinette was torn completely in two, teetering on a precipice between falling backward into the past and skyrocketing to the future. 

Adrien was right—the last week had been an absolute dream. The two of them were beyond compatible. It was more like they could read each other’s every movement. Marinette didn’t know that kind of chemistry was even possible. He was not only flirty and funny and sweet; he was also hard working and focused. Every now and then, however, Marinette’s mind would dredge up the unfortunate fact that he was returning to New York tomorrow. She hoped it wouldn’t end; she hoped they would figure out a long-distance relationship, but she didn’t know how it would work. She needed to talk to him and hash it all out, but she didn’t want to spoil the little time they had together, and besides—there was the Gala! Despite her personal life being in turmoil, Marinette still cared greatly about the children that she served at the Center, and she’d been working on tonight’s events for months. Despite being several thousand euros short of their fundraising goal, she was still determined that tonight would go well, and everyone would enjoy themselves and see the good the Center did for the community. 

Marinette trudged half a pace behind Adrien, their hands still locked together like a lifeline. Tonight was going to be grueling, but her conscience (that sounded a lot like Tikki) whispered positive affirmations with every step.

_It’s going to be ok._

_Chat Noir is alive._

_Adrien isn’t going anywhere._

_You’ve got this._

_The Winter Gala is going to be incredible._

_Your hard work is going to pay off._

_You’re going to find Chat._

_You’re going to be able to talk to Adrien and figure things out._

_Even if you don’t meet the fundraising goal tonight, the children are going to be benefitted._

_The gift ceremony was wonderful—you did a great job._

_Chat Noir is going to be fine._

_No matter what, you had this week with Adrien. That will never go away._

Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand. “Ok, Alya,” she said bravely, “Which fire do I need to put out first?”


	14. The Winter Gala

“So, I guess what it all boils down to is, thank you all for coming. Enjoy the party, and Merry Christmas!” Marinette smiled and gave a little curtsy as the audience applauded enthusiastically. Marinette stepped away from the microphone and tried not to trip over her long red ballgown as she returned to her table. Adrien gave a wolf-whistle that rose above the applause and made her blush.

“Excellent speech,” he teased when she sat down. 

Marinette worried her lower lip with her teeth and scanned the room, “You sure everything’s going to work out?”

“Marinette,” Adrien said with a loving sigh, “You’ve poured over every detail. If it doesn’t work out now, it was not meant to happen.”

She looked up at his playful grin and couldn’t help but smile herself. “Thanks,” she nodded. “I just really, _really_ want this to be successful.”

“And it will be,” he acknowledged. Alya and Juliette, the Children’s Center representative, made it back to the head table, and Nino was almost done setting up the DJ booth for after Kitty Section’s set. 

“Well, we’ve got good turnout,” Juliette said. “That’s the most important thing!”

Marinette nodded absentmindedly. “Maybe I should go out and mingle for a while?”

Adrien shook his head, “Eat first, then schmooze.”

“Har har,” she rolled her eyes, but the waiters appeared with their plates, and Marinette’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. 

“Whoa, when was the last time you ate?” Alya giggled.

Marinette shrugged, “I’ve been busy!” 

“Yes, definitely eat first. Food is good.”

The group chatted idly as they tucked into the first course. Nino returned to the table, Kitty Section started up some new arrangements of their favorite Christmas Carols, and everything was going well. After her salad, Marinette was feeling better. Once the plates of steak, fish, and sweet potatoes had been served, she was finally able to relax. She inhaled her meal and couldn’t stay seated any longer—the children were depending on her! She got up and started mingling from table to table, pausing to say hello and greet the guests.

Marinette was taken aback at how many of Paris’ celebrities were there—Jagged Stone and Penny were, surprisingly, tucked away in a back corner with hardly anyone noticing they were there. XY and M. Roth were just the opposite, and XY already had a decent line of people clambering for his autograph. Clara Nightingale asked if she could do a surprise number with Kitty Section, which Marinette agreed to (as long as Luka said it was ok). Mayor Bourgeois and Chloe were there, and while Chloe made a snide comment about the food, Marinette thanked them for their support and then counted her blessings that they had showed up at all. The tables were filled with business owners, news anchors, designers, and more. And, of course, all of Marinette’s friends were there, cheering her on. There was no way she had time to greet every guest, but Marinette tried her best. Soon, Kitty Section and Clara Nightingale were finishing up their set, and the dance floor opened up. 

“Well,” Nino said, “that’s my cue! Just give me the signal when you’re ready to announce the night’s final earnings,” he reminded Marinette. She nodded and waved as he bounded over to the DJ booth and started revving up the crowd. 

Marinette sat down next to Adrien, who squeezed her hand softly, “You’re doing amazing. This is wonderful.”

She smiled gratefully, “Thanks to your hard work as well—don’t discount yourself. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

He teasingly shrugged, “Yes you could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun without me.”

She pondered and returned his playful wink, “That’s probably true.”

The music was picking up in volume, and Adrien started bobbing his head to the music, “Hey, Marinette, want to dance?”

She popped to her feet and nodded, “Yes!” 

Adrien stood and twirled her in one fluid motion and led her to the dance floor with his arm around her waist. The first song was pretty fast, so they stood close by and danced enthusiastically, encouraging other attendees to join. Of course, there were plenty of other activities available, and the ever-present fundraising table in the corner, but Nino’s DJ services were doing the trick. Soon, the dance floor was filled with excited partygoers, and Marinette nodded in approval. “It’s going so well!” she exclaimed.

Adrien grinned broadly, “As I knew it would. Everyone loves everything, Marinette.”

He grabbed her hand, twirled her once, and pulled her in to an up-tempo contemporary jive. Marinette laughed as Adrien got more enthusiastic about the dance. Once again, their peculiar chemistry emerged, and their feet moved automatically—as if it had been rehearsed. After dancing for a few minutes together, spins and turns and even a couple lifts effortlessly blending, the song closed and a slower one faded in seamlessly. Adrien tucked Marinette under his chin and wrapped his arms around her waist. Swaying gently together, he sighed. “Marinette, this is really special. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

She hummed into his chest, “No, _I’m_ the one who’s grateful. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were here.”

“I know how you feel. Everything this week has been other-worldly. Even this—even dancing with you is like…”

“Like we know what the other person is thinking?” she prompted.

“Yeah! I don’t know if it’s weird or if it’s just amazing, but either way, I like it. I really like being with you.”

“Me too,” she smiled. 

“I… I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something—” he started, looking a little nervous. Marinette’s stomach started doing summersaults. 

“Yes?” she said, trying to maintain an even and cool composure—not an easy feat when her heart was racing.

 _Crash!_ Marinette and Adrien both instinctively whipped to the source of the noised. Marinette’s first reaction was _Akuma attack!_ but that wasn’t possible. There hadn’t been a supervillain attack in years! No, it wasn’t an akuma. But there did seem to be an issue with the catering. Cursing her luck, Marinette let go of Adrien’s shoulders and pouted, “I’m so sorry. I need to go address that.”

“It’s ok,” he responded with a genuine smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette stomped off, trying to keep her temper in check. It wasn’t the caterer’s fault that, for the second time that day, a tender moment with Adrien had been interrupted just as he’d been about to tell her something important. 

The issue was small and a quick fix, too. As soon as she helped them sort out the problem with the venue’s dish washer, she returned to the main hall and started searching for that gorgeous blonde head. 

“Marinette, care to dance?” She whipped around with a wide smile on her face. His voice was a little different, maybe he’d just eaten something? But locking eyes on him was strange. His hair was all messed up, and his eyes had a distant, haunted look in them. She didn’t notice the scar stretching along his cheek at first. 

“Felix?” she said, doing a double take. “Oh, um, yeah, sure, I’d be happy to dance,” she responded automatically, trying to be a good hostess, even while she ached inside to finish her conversation with Adrien. As he led her to the dance floor, Marinette felt uptight, though she couldn’t place why.

“This is quite the party,” Felix noted.

“Thank you,” she responded automatically, dropping into Children’s-Center-Representative mode. “It’s all for the kids.”

“Right,” he winked sarcastically. Marinette recoiled at this strange response. He pulled her in for a tighter dance. “But I’m sure spending an evening with Paris’ biggest and brightest stars doesn’t hurt the ol’ reputation at all, either.”

She furrowed her brow, “I… did I not make the purpose of the event clear in my introduction? One-hundred-percent of the proceeds—”

“Oh, your little speech was quite touching,” he grinned. “No need to be defensive. If I had Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale on speed-dial, I’d be inviting them to my Christmas party as well.” They danced in silence for a while, as Marinette tried to puzzle out what he was saying. “Imagine my surprise to find out that someone as well-connected as you were still unspoken for.”

Marinette swallowed, a chill racing up her spine, “Unspoken for? I think that’s a little presumptuous.”

He sneered slightly and pulled the scar on his cheek taut, then backed up, took Marinette’s left hand and lifted it to eye level, “Hate to break it to you, but your finger is… _naked._ Not presumptuous of me at all.” Felix pulled her hand in to kiss it, and she deftly pulled it away. But his other arm was still around her waist, and he smoothly spun her and brought her close to his chest again. Felix’s hand felt awkward on Marinette’s back. “I’m looking forward to being neighbors, Marinette,” he sneered, the scar on his cheek pulling upward. “You _did_ hear I bought the ol’ Agreste mansion, right? Well, Graham De Vanily Mansion, I should clarify. It was never Uncle Gabe’s. I think we’re going to be great friends. I could probably even find room for you at the new and improved _Gabriel_ , once I get it up and running again.”

She frowned, “Running again?”

He chuckled, “Well, yes, after my idiot cousin ran it into the ground. It needs some cleaning up, but I reckon it’ll turn a tidy profit with proper management.”

She tensed, but couldn’t pull away from his firm grip around her waist, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to be telling me—”

“You didn’t hear? _Gabriel_ is going to be declaring bankruptcy at the end of the month. That’s why Adrien was forced to sell the mansion and why he quit his job.”

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper, “That’s not true, he wants to be a physics professor!”

“A physics professor, ha! You bought that? He was just trying to lure you in—a talented, unspoken-for designer, and one as—ahem—as _beautiful_ as you? Yeah, I’d say you were _just_ the ticket he was looking for. I’m sure he’d hoped you’d rejuvenate the business, and maybe be a sweet score on the side.”

“A score?” Marinette choked on the word. No. Not Adrien. He would never. Her face was burning and her breath was coming in shallow and fast. “Absolutely not. That’s not the kind of person Adrien is.”

Felix shrugged, “If you insist. But everything about the business, yes. _Gabriel_ brand is about to announce its worst quarter on record, and there’s no recovering. Adrien sold the mansion for a pittance, but he doesn’t know how much money his father had borrowed against the house. When the business folds, he’ll be lucky if he makes it out of all this with the shirt on his back intact. Your boyfriend’s going to be completely destroyed.” Marinette’s stomach clenched. 

“He’s not—he’s not my boyfriend,” she said automatically.

He chuckled sinisterly, “So he hasn’t even committed _that_ much? Wow, you’re further gone than I thought. If I were you, I’d start thinking about all my options,” Felix licked his lips as his eyes slid up and down her body, “and what’s available.”

Uncomfortable was too kind of a word right now. “Felix, I really don’t think that’s appropriate,” she said, letting go of his hand and trying to back away. He fixed his hold on her waist even tighter.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Please let me go.”

“Oh, come now, Marinette. You can’t tell me you don’t find me attractive—I know, because you’ve been in love with this face for ten years now.”

“Is that what you think of me?” she spat, “That I only love his _face?_ You’re nothing like him, nothing at all! He’s kind and smart and funny and full of light! You’re… you’re a jerk!” Marinette ripped her body away from him, pushing him backwards in the process. Felix stumbled and rammed into Juleka and Rose, who were dancing close by. He wheeled around, glaring at her.

“You’re going to regret that,” he growled. 

Marinette automatically clenched her fists and widened her stance for battle. Felix lifted one foot, preparing to launch himself toward her, when a pair of long-fingered hands grabbed his shoulders and threw him to the ground. “Regret _what?_ ”

“Adrien!” Marinette cried, taking two huge leaps toward Adrien, who was standing over Felix with a feral expression on his face.

“Oh look, sweetheart,” Felix grinned at Marinette, “Your _Not-Boyfriend_ has come to save the day. What’s the matter, cousin, your relationship too fragile to handle a little competition?”

“You keep your hands _off_ of her, you disgusting piece of gutter trash,” Adrien growled.

“Adrien, it’s really ok—” Marinette tried, suddenly hyper-aware of all the eyes staring at them.

“No, it’s really not, Marinette,” Adrien spat.

Felix kicked his way to his feet and matched Adrien’s height. “Gutter trash? You dare call me gutter trash, when you came from… from _him?_ Hawkmoth’s heir, couldn’t even keep the family business together? Your mother would be ashamed.”

“You know nothing about his mother!” Marinette screeched.

Adrien and Felix were both taken aback and turned to her. Felix growled, “And you do?”

Marinette flushed, but held her ground, “I know she was a kind and loving person, and I know she would be _so_ proud of Adrien and he way he’s followed his dreams.”

Adrien smiled softly at Marinette, but Felix laughed, “You really believe that? Oh, you poor little baby, he’s fed you his lies so long that you can’t see the truth.”

“They’re not lies!”

“He never told you the truth about quitting modeling; I’d say that qualifies as a lie.” Marinette’s lip quivered, but she was determined not to give Felix the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Felix looked her up and down again. Marinette wrapped her arms around her chest as if to protect herself from his slithering gaze. “You know, on second thought, you can have him. I rescind my offer. Surely I can find someone with a bit more brain.”

Marinette seethed, but it was Adrien who refreshed his grip on Felix’s shoulder and bit back a retort, choosing to turn to Marinette instead, “Do you mind if I amend your guest list a bit, my darling?”

“You know, it sure didn’t take you long to hook up with someone new,” Felix continued, baiting Adrien now. “Jacqueline told me you were going to propose. And now, you’re all cozy with Marinette. Not even a month. That’s impressive. Of course, not as impressive as how quickly Jacqueline moved on from you… that only took about twelve hours. Then again, maybe that’s because she was already mine before—”

“Shut up,” Adrien sneered.

“Adrien, don’t, it’s what he wants—” Marinette warned.

“Oh, did you not know? Did you never know about her and me? Yeah, I guess you didn’t. You always were _so_ oblivious—”

A fist flew into Felix’s face, but it wasn’t Adrien’s. A collective gasp rose from the crowd (they hadn’t been exactly quiet; everyone around them was paying rapt attention to the argument at hand) as Felix cursed and brought his hand to cradle his bleeding nose and Marinette stepped back, massaging her knuckles. “I thought he told you to shut up,” Marinette hissed. “Adrien, if you’d be so kind as to take out the trash?”

“With pleasure,” Adrien winked, then dragged Felix by the scruff of the neck out the front door. Slow applause rippled over the crowd, growing louder and more raucous as Adrien returned, empty handed. Marinette met Adrien halfway to the door and threw her arms around him. His warm arms steadied her tenderly. “You know,” he whispered into her ear so only she could hear him, “He was wrong. I’ve always told you the complete truth, and I’m telling you the truth now: you’re beautiful and brilliant and—Marinette?” She looked up at him carefully, still shaking from the encounter. Adrien’s eyes were blazing and pierced Marinette to the core. “I love you.”

Marinette didn’t even get a chance to respond—Adrien’s lips captured hers as the crowd roared its approval.


	15. After the Gala

“Wow, it’s hot in here!” Adrien panted after he and Marinette demolished the Lindy Hop competition. She was still stunning in her red dress, even though her hair had fallen a bit and her makeup was fading. Her smile was brighter than it had been all day, and Adrien couldn’t get enough. 

“Want to step out for some fresh air?” Marinette offered. He eagerly nodded his head. 

The Winter Gala was a roaring success, once Felix had been dismissed, and the last few hours had been amazing—dancing with all Adrien’s friends, catching up with people he hadn’t seen in years, and best of all, being with Marinette. The two started walking toward the rear exit that went to the Children’s Center playground, when Juliette, the Children’s Center representative, grinned from the donations table at Marinette.

“Maybe this would be a good time to announce the night’s total earnings?” she called.

“Oh,” Marinette said, suddenly turning to Adrien with a nervous expression, “I didn’t realize it was getting that late!”

Juliette nodded, “I’m afraid so.”

Adrien had been watching her enough lately to know that something was bothering Marinette. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s just,” she groaned, “I… Um… Can we just go home? Now?”

His brow knit in concern, “What’s the matter?”

“I just can’t anymore. Please?” Marinette’s eyes were watery and tired, and Adrien wanted to smooth all of her hurt away. Now that he’d found her, he didn’t want to lose her.

“Juliette, can you manage it by yourself?” he asked. 

Juliette frowned. “You sure, Marinette? This has been your baby all along.”

Marinette pressed her forehead into Adrien’s chest and nodded. “Um, sure, if you’re certain,” he said tenderly. 

“Yes,” Marinette muttered, “I can’t bear to watch.”

“Let’s go get our coats, then.” Adrien concluded with a sad shrug to Juliette. The young brunette smiled and climbed up to the stage. Adrien dragged his feet slightly, eager to hear Juliette’s announcement, but also wanting to respect Marinette’s discomfort.

“Thank you all so much for coming!” Juliette was announcing. “This has been such an incredible evening, and we want to thank you all for your generosity.”

“Who cares about the coats,” Marinette sighed. “Let’s just go.”

“Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien whispered urgently as she tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the door.

She shook her head, “Come on, I can’t bear to hear that we failed, on top of everything else.”

“We came into this project with some pretty lofty goals…” Juliette droned on.

“Marinette,” Adrien whispered in her ear, kissing her temple lightly, “you didn’t fail, it’s going to be wonderful, you’ll see. Like you said in your speech before dinner, every bit helps, and there wouldn’t be _anything_ without you—”

She shook her head fervently. “You don’t get it, Adrien! This whole center is run by volunteers and is paid for with donations! And we were _so_ far behind—it’s impossible! After Christmas I’m going to have to break it to the kids that there’s not enough money to do the garden project, and they’re going to be heartbroken!”

Juliette continued, like a lamb marching to slaughter, “We’d been hoping to start this new garden project. We knew it would be a stretch…”

“Shoot, she announced it,” Marinette cursed under her breath. Adrien halted and turned toward the stage. “Now there’s no going back. Please, Adrien, _please…”_ She gave a mighty yank on Adrien’s arm and he stumbled behind her, nearly to the door.

“But tonight, we’re thrilled to announce that there will be more than enough funds to cover the entire garden project, and then some!”

“What?” Marinette gasped and wheeled around. Her knees collapsed under her completely; Adrien slipped his arms under her armpits before she hit the ground. He kissed her cheek softly. 

“You did it,” he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him in shock.

“But that’s not possible,” she gasped, shaking like a leaf and sobbing, “We were so far away—”

He shrugged serenely, “Maybe some last-minute donations came in.”

The crowd was flooding the stage. Nobody noticed the two wrapped around each other near the rear exit. “I don’t believe it,” she choked out over her sobs.

He kissed her forehead, “Believe it. You did it!”

“We did it,” she chanted to herself, “we did it. Oh, Adrien,” she gnawed her lip, “we’re going to be able to build the garden memorial for the kids, and they’re going to get the help they need! I can’t believe it! This is… this is amazing, it’s absolutely _miraculous!”_

He picked her up and twirled her. “You deserve it, Marinette!” 

She was so happy. She peppered his face with kisses, and heat flooded Adrien’s core. _This was worth it. Seeing her so happy was worth all of it. And the donation will be even more worth it when she’s helping the kids._

Adrien and Marinette were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice Juliette closing the Gala and thanking all their donors and the musicians. They just stood there, holding each other, until the crowd had thinned significantly, and people started cleaning up.

“Oh,” Marinette giggled, the first of the two to come back to reality, “I guess the party’s over.”

Adrien looked around and nodded blandly, “Apparently.”

She smiled sheepishly, “It’s funny, I was ready to bolt, but now I don’t want this night to end.”

He stroked her cheek softly, “I know what you mean.”

She pursed her lips and pondered, “Come here, you’ll love this.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him out to the back patio, where they could be alone in the cool night air. The playground equipment was covered in Christmas lights, and was quite magical. But not as magical as the look on Marinette’s gorgeous face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes,” he responded, still content to gaze at the stunning woman beside him. 

She was shivering. He hadn’t even noticed the cold, but then again, she did get cold a lot faster than he did. “Sorry, you’re freezing,” he noted.

She nodded once, “Yes, but warm on the inside!”

He chuckled as her teeth chattered together, “Here, take my coat,” he said, stripping the sport coat from his back and wrapping it around her. She sighed contentedly and smelled the jacket. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re _smelling_ it?”

She nodded, “Yep. It smells wonderful.”

“Is that so? What does it smell like?”

“You,” she responded simply. Marinette looked so serene next to him. She wandered to a swing and sat down, then watched the way the hem of her dress brushed the snow. Adrien hooked his arm around the swing next to her and sat down, kicked off, and let momentum rock him forward and back. Marinette smiled, “Nino and I used to play on the swings, when we were little,” she mused. “The other kids would tease us about being married if the swing arcs lined up.”

Adrien grinned, “Really?”

She nodded, then pushed off and pumped her legs a few times to get a few meters off the ground. Adrien watched carefully and pumped his legs just right, and after a few minutes of back-and-forth, their two bodies lined up perfectly, so they reached the top of their arcs at precisely the same time. “Well, look at that, Mrs. Agreste,” Adrien teased, “Looks like you’re stuck with me forever!”

She tossed her head back and laughed, her hair rippling out behind her. “Ha, you wish!” she teased, before digging her delicate shoes into the snow and kicking up a spray of snow to stop herself. “What are you going to do _now,_ huh?”

She folded her arms and cocked her head, trying to be sassy, but only succeeding in being drop-dead gorgeous. Adrien jumped out of the swing at the top of its peak, twisted in the air and landed deftly. She was so surprised that she didn’t even blink as he took an enormous leap to her side, scooped her up in his arms, and planted a huge kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he looked at her surprised and flushed face and crooned, “I’m never going to let go, that’s what I’m going to do.” She gasped but didn’t pull back. This was it. This was the right moment. He’d been waiting all night to ask her to be his, and this was it. “Marinette,” he said tenderly, “I’m serious. I don’t want to let you go.”

She halted and looked down at the ground. Adrien’s stomach jumped into his throat as he recognized what had caught her attention. The red-and-black spotted envelope housing the letter from Ladybug had gotten dislodged from Adrien’s jacket pocket and was fluttering down in slow-motion. 

Adrien wrapped his fingers over the name on the envelope before she could have possibly seen that it was addressed to Chat Noir, but she clearly was shocked by it.

“Sorry, Marinette,” he blushed, “I guess I forgot to take that out of my jacket pocket.”

“Your… your jacket pocket…” she echoed, gaping and trembling and looking at him in shocked horror. 

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly concerned for her. He peeked at the envelope in his hand. The name was face-down; there was _no way_ she could have seen the address, no way at all… Why was she acting like she’d seen a ghost?

“That’s from L-Ladybug,” she muttered, her hands flying to her cheeks and gripping her ears. 

His brows furrowed in consternation, “How did you know that?”

“You’ve got a l-letter from _Ladybug?_ ”

Oh no. She was assuming the worst! Adrien careened backward, his arms flailing, “Marinette, no, it’s not like that at all! Yeah, this is a letter from Ladybug, but I’m _not_ in love with her anymore, like, not even a little bit!” Her eyes widened even further. “I told you, I’m in love with _you_ , not her! I swear, I’m not interested in her at all!”

Marinette was barely staying upright. Adrien hesitantly reached out for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head. Her voice went high and panicked, reminding Adrien of their years in college when Marinette would stutter and freak out every time he was near, “Adrien, I’m—I’m—Lay—Later—no—I can’t—but I must—no, I can’t—I can’t!” She spun on her heel and was running faster than Adrien thought possible in heels and a ballgown. 

“Marinette? Marinette! Wait! I’m sorry, it’s not like that! I swear!” She made it through the playground gate before he could collect the jacket she’d dropped on the ground as she fled, and when he made it past the garden wall, he couldn’t see her on the footpath or the parking lot beyond. “MARINETTE!” Adrien screamed into the night, but the only thing that came back to him was a dull echo off the cold Children’s Center garden wall. Marinette was gone.


	16. What Marinette Needs

The tears whipped off Ladybug’s cheeks and froze midair as she hurled herself over the rooftops of Paris. Typically, she was really careful about where she went, about hiding carefully, about not taking direct routes to her house, and the like—but not tonight. Not now. Now, it was only the steady flex of muscles and the _toss, catch, pull, toss, catch, pull_ rhythm of her yo-yo. She landed on her balcony with a loud thud, kicked her skylight open, and jumped to the platform below. The tears that had been flowing since she’d escaped the Winter Gala turned into a long, drawn-out wail— _“Spots ooooffffffff!”_ before Marinette collapsed on her bed.

There was a rapid pounding of footsteps below her and her trap door flew open. Marinette froze in a panic. “Don’t move! I’m warning you; I’m armed!”

“What?” Marinette screeched, peering over the edge of her bed and down at her mother, who was tearing into her room carrying the large wooden bread peel from the bakery.

“Marinette?” her mother wildly screamed, “Is that _you?_ ”

“Of course it’s me!” Marinette wailed.

“I thought I heard an intruder on the roof!” her mother replied, clutching a stitch in her chest. “I didn’t see you come in, either. I’ve been downstairs all night waiting for you. What was…what was that sound? It sounded like someone jumped on the roof and broke in through the skylight!”

“Oh… that…” Marinette tried to brush it off, but her mother was already ascending the ladder to her bed and inspecting the skylight—which was still open.

“Marinette,” she queried, “were you on the roof? And what was—oh!” Sabine had just gotten a closer look at Marinette’s tear-stained face. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

Marinette’s heart ached as she watched her mother—her sweet, determined, caring mother. “I… I c-can’t…” 

But if Marinette could have chosen anyone in the entire world to talk to in this second, it would have been her mom. Her whole life was in chaos, and she was regretting so many decisions—and add to that the sheer exhaustion from this long, crazy day—and Marinette couldn’t do it any longer. The dam that had held her secrets back for so long burst, and everything flooded out.

“I can’t keep this a secret anymore, Maman. I just can’t! I’ve been hiding for ten years and I’m tired, I’m lonely, and I’m finding out the walls I set up to protect myself have only caused hurt and destruction. Maman I’m—” but when it came to the point where she was about to say the word, she hesitated. Sabine sat on the edge of Marinette’s bed, wearing a look of pure, concerned, motherly love. But Marinette had never told anyone this. _Ever._ Was it safe? Was it wise? She needed to tell her mother. But could she?

Tikki suddenly appeared, bobbing up behind Sabine’s shoulder, her little cheeks streaked with tears. Marinette met eyes with her kwami, and the two shared a quick, knowing look. Tikki nodded once, Marinette nodded in return, and then Tikki whispered, “Marinette is Ladybug.”

“AAAAACK!” Sabine screeched, whipping around to see Tikki levitating beside her shoulder. “It’s a bug! A mouse! A bug-mouse? And it talks! MARINETTE, THERE’S A TALKING BUGMOUSE IN YOUR ROOM!” Sabine swung the peel at Tikki, who simply phased through the wood, which only made Sabine scream harder. 

“Wow, now I know where you get it from,” Tikki winked.

Marinette, looked from her mother to Tikki and back to her mother, and then burst out laughing. “Maman, did you hear Tikki? She said I’m _Ladybug!”_

“Oh yes, that’s well and fine, but aren’t you going to do something about the talking bugmouse?” Sabine wailed. “Wait—” she suddenly froze and dropped the bread peel to the floor with a clatter, “ _Ladybug?”_

Marinette clutched the stitch in her side that had formed from excessive crying and laughter and nodded.

“Oh Marinette, oh my baby girl!” Sabine stood and threw her arms around Marinette—exactly the response Marinette needed. Their hug was warm and loving, and Sabine stroked Marinette’s hair softly, and Marinette held her mother until the laughter subsided and the tears stopped flowing. Eventually, Sabine turned back to Tikki and smiled carefully, “I’m sorry I called you a bugmouse. You must be Ladybug’s… helper?”

“I’m her kwami,” Tikki said politely, “my name’s Tikki. I give Ladybug her powers. But yes, I’d like to think I’m Marinette’s helper.”

“You’re more than a helper,” Marinette held out her hands and Tikki zoomed to her, “You’re my dear friend and companion.”

“Thank you, Marinette, I think you’re wonderful as well!”

“My _daughter_ is Ladybug… how did you keep it a secret from me all this time?”

“Well, I was careful—”

Tikki interrupted Marinette, “That would be the magic that helps keep identities veiled. I’m so sorry we have to do that, but Hawkmoth was at large for three years, and we never got the Peacock Miraculous back, so it was too dangerous.”

“Why tell me now, then?” Sabine asked, still gawking at Tikki’s tiny wings.

“Because Marinette really, really needs her Mom.” Tikki gave another meaningful look to Marinette, before flying to the corner of the bed to sit and offer support.

Sabine pulled back, her lip trembling slightly, and turned back to her daughter, suddenly all business, “I’m here for you, sweetheart. Tell me everything.”

Marinette didn’t know where to start. “Adrien… Adrien is…”

Sabine looked like she was tempted to say something, but then bit her tongue. Marinette gave another look to Tikki, who gave her an encouraging nod, “It’s alright, Marinette. It’s time to tell her. Tell it all.”

Marinette gulped a large quantity of air and flopped to her bed, “Adrien is Chat Noir.” Marinette realized in that very second that her mother’s heart was made of pure gold, for she didn’t gasp or scream again, she merely reached over and took her daughter’s hand. It was precisely the encouragement Marinette needed to continue. “I just found out tonight. I’ve been so worried about him for years, and then at the gift ceremony today, I got a letter that Chat Noir had left for me under the Christmas tree. I didn’t know where he was or even that he was still alive, and then to find out he was here I was so ecstatic, and then just now at the end of the Gala, I found the letter—the letter that _I_ left him—in his pocket. The letter that Ladybug gave him. The only person who could have that letter is Chat Noir, unless he stole it, but why would he do that? No, he’s Chat Noir, he has to be!” Marinette was hyperventilating. 

Sabine stayed very calm. “Honey, deep breaths. It’ll be alright. Why don’t we back up a bit.”

Marinette gulped and started again, “We got our Miraculouses when we were fourteen. Things were so simple then. Maybe that’s why we got them so young? I don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. But it changed both of our lives. I never knew who wore the mask. I just knew that he was a great partner. When he left after we beat Hawkmoth, I was so confused and so lost. I looked for him for years! Every Christmas, I’ve written him a letter and left it under the tree at the Children’s Center, and every year it’s gone unanswered. But today, there was a letter from him to me under the tree. And then after the Gala we were swinging and he gave me his jacket, and the letter _I_ gave him fell out of his pocket!”

Sabine nodded slowly, “So, Adrien is Chat Noir? Well, that makes sense. Chat Noir left about the same time Adrien did, right?”

Marinette nodded, “Yes, nearly to the day. I c-can’t believe I didn’t see it before now! It all adds up—why Chat Noir would suddenly abandon his Miraculous and leave Paris. It was because Chat was Adrien, all along! It was his father we were always fighting. Oh, he went through so much, and all alone!” Marinette collapsed into her arms, the sobs overtaking her again. 

Sabine just rubbed her back tenderly. “It’s ok, honey.”

“No, it’s not! It’s anything but ok!”

“It _is_ ok. He was dealt an awful hand, but he survived. Not only survived but thrived! Listen, Marinette, I’ve been watching Adrien more than you know—and he’s quite the young man. However, he needed to learn how to be emotionally and physically independent. If you’d taken away all the pain, you would have robbed him an opportunity to discover himself.”

Marinette gulped, “I still should have been there for him.”

Sabine scoffed, “Dearest, you _were_ there for him. You stayed in contact—”

“Only through social media and a couple of emails—”

“Which is sufficient; trust me. You always let him know he still had a friend in you. You kept Paris safe—”

“Again, an easy feat because there haven’t been supervillains—”

“But you took care of his city so that he could focus on himself. You have no idea how big of a deal that is, when someone is hurting, that they have people they trust to keep things afloat.” 

Marinette wasn’t convinced, but Sabine stayed quietly by her side, holding her and letting her work out her feelings. “I still just can’t get over the fact that he was Chat Noir all that time. Maman, I’ve loved him for years. All that time, he was an arm’s length away, and I pushed him away! I turned him down! Gah!” She thunked her head on the bed again. 

Sabine tenderly stroked her daughter’s hair, “You never could have known that. Besides, you needed time to figure yourself out too,” she pointed out, much to Marinette’s chagrin. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette grumbled. “I’m just so confused. I don’t even know the truth about his fashion business!”

Sabine pursed her lips in confusion, “His… his business?”

Marinette shook her head, “It’s just something that Felix said that’s bothering me.”

“Felix? Who’s Felix?”

“Adrien’s cousin. He just bought the mansion and will be moving here… which is awful… and beside the point. But he said that Adrien wasn’t simply leaving the company, he said the company’s folding and Adrien’s bailing.”

Sabine’s eyebrows furrowed, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Marinette shook her head, “Adrien told me he was leaving the business to pursue higher education and become a physics professor. Felix’s story was different.”

“And who do you believe?”

Marinette hesitated, jaw hanging, “I… I want to believe Adrien but—”

Sabine chuckled and rolled her eyes, “You’ve known Adrien for a long time. You trust him implicitly. There’s something else that’s causing you to doubt what you already know.” Marinette frowned, so Sabine pressed on, “He’s been gone for a long time, but that’s nothing to a partnership as deep as yours. Now, he’s here, he loves you, you love him back. To me, it seems quite simple,” Sabine smiled knowingly.

“But it’s _not_ simple!” Marinette wailed, the ache in her chest reaching new heights, “He… he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

Sabine frowned in confusion, “Wait, he doesn’t? I thought he loved you.”

Marinette gripped her hair and looked at the skylight above, “He does—well, he said he loves me, he loves _Marinette_ ,” she finally managed to get out. “But he doesn’t love _Ladybug._ ”

“Oh,” Sabine said, still frowning. “Well, that makes sense, because if he doesn’t know that you’re Ladybug, it would be wrong to be in love with both of you.”

Marinette hesitated, then fretted, “But he still doesn’t see me—not all of me, at least.”

“You’ve got to tell him, dear.”

“I tried to,” Marinette insisted. “I did! I just… I couldn’t. I promised myself that the second I found him I would tell him everything, but then he was holding that letter and it was clear he was Chat and he said he didn’t love Ladybug anymore and I just froze. I couldn’t do it, Maman, I couldn’t tell him!” Sabine patted her daughter’s back slowly and let Marinette catch her breath. “And then there’s the whole fact that he’s living in New York, which he’s going back to tomorrow; he’s leaving his job… or it’s closing? I’m so confused! I don’t even know what I want! I spent so much time yearning for him, but now he’s here and I’m terrified! I’m terrified of losing him, terrified of putting him on too high a pedestal, terrified of him leaving again—”

Sabine furrowed her brows, “Do you think he’s going to leave again?”

Marinette shrugged dramatically, “I don’t know! He left me—twice! Once as Adrien and once as Chat Noir! How do I know he won’t leave again?”

“That’s not fair, honey—”

“I _know_ it’s not fair; don’t you think I know it’s not fair? None of this is fair! It wasn’t fair that Adrien had to be Hawkmoth’s son! It wasn’t fair that Chat Noir didn’t have anyone to talk to for all that time! It wasn’t fair that he left me! It wasn’t fair that I’ve been alone all these years! It wasn’t fair that he came back for two weeks and we met and are falling in love just in time for him to return to the real world—none of it is fair!”

Sabine waited for Marinette to finish her tirade, calmly breathing and smiling, then carefully reached out and tucked her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “And it wasn’t fair to place the burden of being a superheroine on a fourteen-year-old girl, yet someone made that choice. Still, I know you, and if you could go back, you would have volunteered. Why? Because that’s the kind of person you’ve always been. You deal with unfair all the time, but you just figure out how to work with the life you’ve got.”

Marinette pouted, “Sometimes I don’t want to.”

Sabine nodded sagely, “I know. I don’t want you to have to.”

Marinette gazed at her mother for a moment and tried to school her feelings, then erupted, “I just want him to be happy, you know?”

“Yes, I do know. Do you think he’s happy with you?”

“Yes, maybe, I think so? But he doesn’t know I’m Ladybug, and without that knowledge, I can’t be truly open with him.”

“So, tell him.” 

Marinette scoffed, “Telling _you_ was hard enough, and you’re my mother!” Sabine just raised an eyebrow, and Marinette caved, “Fine, I know, I need to tell him. But Maman, he was happy in New York too—at least, he was well on the path to being happy, and he didn’t have his Miraculous. He’s moved on from Ladybug and from being Chat Noir, and…” she gulped, not wanting to discuss this possibility, but knowing she really needed to, “what if he doesn’t want anything to do with the Miraculous anymore? What if I tell him who I really am, and he hates me for it?”

Sabine thought for a few moments, then spoke in a voice that, while gentle, pierced Marinette to her core, “Has Adrien ever lied to you? Has he ever led you on? Has he ever intentionally hurt you? Has he ever hidden something from you—not counting his secret identity that he was under magical orders never to reveal? In fact, that should be a bigger testament to his character—he maintained that concealment of his identity, even when he no longer wore the ring, even when it would have been to his advantage to reveal himself. But he didn’t. He protected you, the people of Paris, and the Miraculous by keeping it a secret. So, why are you still holding him at arm’s length?”

Marinette thought about that as silence hung in the chilly bedroom. _Excuses. It was all excuses._ Finally, she whispered, “I’m afraid he’ll say no. It’s the same fear I’ve always had. I’m afraid he’ll turn me down.”

Sabine nodded, “There you go. There’s the truth, at last.” She hugged her daughter and held her close, “I know you feel like this is so much more complicated than the average person, because you have secret identities and supervillain parents and all these big secrets you need to keep, but when it comes right down to it, it’s not different at all, is it? You’re still just a girl in love, hoping that he feels the same way about you.” Marinette nodded into her mother’s warm shoulder. “And therefore, the conclusion is the same as the rest of the world—you’ve got to put it out there. You’ve got to take a leap of faith. It’s time to trust Adrien with your heart, and if he breaks it, it’s going to hurt. But, sweetie, if he doesn’t break it—if he cradles it and cherishes it? Well…”

Marinette’s watery blue eyes searched her mother’s warm grey ones, “What?”

Sabine patted her cheek tenderly, “Well, then you find out what life’s all about, dearest.”


	17. Pont Des Arts

Adrien shoved the last of his things into his bag as Nino rubbed his bleary eyes. “I’m sorry man,” Nino said, “I wish I knew what to do.”

Adrien shook his head tersely, “Me too.”

“Maybe try calling her again?”

Adrien scoffed, “She knows when my plane is leaving. She knows my schedule better than I do.”

Adrien had sat in front of the Dupain-Cheng bakery and residence all night. She never came home. He’d called and texted and paced until his feet felt like they were going to fall off. Around five in the morning, Adrien had come to the bitter conclusion that Marinette wasn’t going to materialize before it was time to go to the airport, and had returned to Nino’s apartment cold, tired, and defeated. He looked around the sparse apartment and his eyes locked on Clairece, the pathetic little Christmas tree that still sat so cozy and perfect in the corner. He choked up for the umpteenth time that night. “Argh!” he groaned, flopping on the couch and burying his face in his hands, “Why won’t she just _talk_ to me? She assumed the worst and now I have to go and I’m going to lose her over this stupid thing!”

Nino shook his head, “I dunno, man. I would say it’s a girl thing, but we both know Marinette isn’t like that.”

“No, she’s not, which just makes everything so much worse.” Nino patted Adrien’s shoulder awkwardly. Adrien did one last check of his bag and of the apartment to make sure he had everything. The soft blue sweater Marinette had given him was folded carefully on the top of his clothes, his phone was charged, and in the front pocket was his mother’s wedding band. Adrien sucked in a breath and pulled the small velvet box out and looked at it, then chuckled ironically, “It’s so strange. When I came to Paris two weeks ago, I was holding this ring and thinking about the wrong girl. Now, I’m confident I’ve found the right girl, but it’s not working and I have no clue why.”

Nino frowned, “Don’t give up on her, not yet.”

Adrien closed his eyes and sighed, “I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. I wasn’t kidding—I’m in love with her. Love like this doesn’t come every day, and it certainly doesn’t go away just because of one misunderstanding.” The buzzer rang, pulling both men out of their reverie. “Dang, that’s my cab,” Adrien groaned.

Nino looked at him sadly as Adrien pocketed the ring, stood, and shouldered his bag. “I… I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again, but, um, thanks for calling me.”

Adrien nodded hollowly, and then Nino threw his arms around his best friend and slapped Adrien’s back. “It’s going to be ok. I don’t know how, but I know it will be.”

Adrien returned the hug, only able to nod his thanks to his friend, and headed for the door and the taxi beyond. The patchy snow that had been threatening for a few days was picking up at last, leaving everything dusted in white. The morning air was still as the snowflakes fell on Adrien’s hair. He sucked in one last breath to steel himself against his inevitable departure, and silently padded out to the waiting taxi. 

_Zip zip zip._

Adrien halted and looked up—that sound—was she here? He scanned the rooftops; nothing. Adrien frowned. It must have been wishful thinking. Not that he’d been wishing to see Ladybug—at least, no more than he’d wished to see Ladybug ever since he arrived. Adrien only wanted to see her to make sure she was well, he reasoned with himself. And maybe perhaps to tell her to go talk to Marinette and explain that Ladybug’s letter had been completely platonic. He sighed and slid into the backseat of the taxi.

Adrien gazed out the window at the Paris skyline and said goodbye. He’d come here for closure and only succeeded in opening a big can of worms. What was he going to do now? Go home to his big empty apartment and call Marinette? What would he even say? _Sorry about the mix-up, no I’m not still in love with Ladybug, yes I think she’s an amazing superhero, no I never dated her, yes I loved her for years but I love you now, see you… never?_ The words sounded stupid just rattling around in his skull. Besides, the truth was so much more nuanced than that. He did still love Ladybug and always would. She had been his partner and best friend. They’d fought side-by-side for three years—three very formative and critical years. She’d been a beacon of hope and light in an otherwise dismal time of his life. And being Chat Noir had been the most amazing thing that ever happened—

NO. Adrien cut himself off that train of thought immediately. He refused to dwell on his time as Chat Noir. That was over. Past tense. He’d renounced Plagg and returned the ring and the memories did nothing but haunt his dreams. Reliving his past life only brought pain.

Adrien sighed as they drove on. Would the last few weeks become another past life that he looked back at with nothing but pain?

 _“Ad---n!”_ a muted voice caught his ear just as they passed the Pont des Arts. 

“Did you hear that?” he asked the driver.

“Hear what?”

“I thought someone called my name,” he shrugged. 

_“Adr—n!”_

“There it is again!” He craned his neck, trying to see what was going on outside the taxi, when there, running for all she was worth— “STOP! Stop the car!”

Adrien threw the door open and jumped out before the taxi came to a halt. “Adrien!” Marinette cried as she raced toward him. 

“ _Marinette?_ ” he gasped. She was winded and flushed. Her hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, that were protected by a thin jacket. Her makeup was nearly gone, her eyes were slightly bloodshot—she clearly hadn’t slept that night either. “How did you find me?”

She clutched a stitch in her side and threw her arms around his waist. “I went to Nino’s. He told me you’d already left. Adrien—” she panted, her chest heaving into his abdomen as he snuggled his nose into her hair, “I’m _so_ sorry!”

Adrien combed his fingers through her hair, and she leaned back just enough so he could see her beautiful, rich blue eyes. “It’s alright, my love,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not alright,” she gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t open with you and I hurt you so badly, and then when you needed me, I abandoned you. I am _so_ sorry!”

“Hey, uh,” the cabbie yelled from the car window, “are you coming?”

Adrien looked over at the taxi and back at Marinette. “Do you want me to go?”

She worried her lip with her teeth and shook her head, “No.”

“Then I’ll stay—”

She shook her head and interrupted, “Don’t promise that until I’ve had a chance to tell you everything.” 

He frowned, intrigued and concerned at the weight of her tone, “Tell me everything?”

She nodded simply, “And then if you want to go, I’ll take you home myself.”

His eyebrows flew to his hairline, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can get you home in a fraction of the time the airplane can, and I’ll do it if you want me to, and then I’ll never bother you again. You’ll be free to live a peaceful life in New York, if that’s what you want.”

Adrien was confused and worried, “Marinette, you’re not making sense—”

“Leave his things, I’ve got this,” she marched to the window and covertly handed a large wad of bills to the driver. The young man rolled his eyes and made a show of pulling Adrien’s bag out of the vehicle and speeding off with squealing wheels. 

“Well,” Adrien muttered, still impressed with Marinette’s handling of the taxi, “you’ve got me all to yourself. Care to explain?”

Marinette took a deep breath, “Would it be alright if we went somewhere a little more private?” She nodded towards the pedestrian bridge bedecked with locks, still deserted in the thickening morning snow. 

“Sure,” he said, far more concerned with Marinette than his bag on the side of the road. 

“Adrien,” she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself, “I… I love you.”

He couldn’t help the teasing smirk, “Is that all? You could have told me that last night.”

She nodded, “I know, and I should have. But it’s so much deeper than that. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I’ve loved you ever since I know what love is. You’re my whole world. I should have told you that back when we were fourteen. I should have told you every day. I should have told you that when we were in school together, when we were in New York together, when you lost your mother, when you left—and,” she gulped; Adrien held perfectly still and waited on bated breath, “I should have told you when I ran into you and we got tangled up in my yo-yo string, and when you hugged me as we were swimming in the Seine during the Miracle Queen attack, and when we found out your father was Hawkmoth. I should have told you every chance I got, and never let you wonder how much I really cared.”

His stomach dropped to the floor, “M-Marinette, what are you s-saying?”

Her eyes were so familiar—they had that hard, blazing look to them. A piece of Adrien that had been locked away for seven years struggled to break free. “Adrien, I have something for you,” she bit her lip. “I don’t know if you want it or not, but I promised myself that the second I found you, I would tell you everything, and that if you wanted it back, it would be yours. Because I never—” she choked, and the tears erupted, “I _never_ wanted a different partner. It was always you, and only you. And even though I know you’re happy with the life you’ve worked so hard to build, I have to ask.”

She took a big breath and reached a shaky hand into the pocket of her jacket, then backed up. In her tiny hands was a jewelry box. “Chat Noir,” she whispered, and her words shook him to his core, “here is the Miraculous of the Black Cat,” ringing filled Adrien’s ears. This couldn’t be real life! “…which grants the power of destruction. It comes with no expectations, no demands, just my love. Please,” she begged, “please, be my partner again?”

He stood there in shock and watched as Marinette opened the box and revealed the black ring with the green pawprint. Adrien’s fingers were shaking like mad as he hesitantly reached forward. “H-How,” he croaked, “h-how did you…” he could barely make her outline out through his watery vision, “L-Ladybug?”

She smiled weakly, then pulled her hair away from her earrings—the little studs that she always wore. “It’s me, Chaton,” she whispered. 

_“Ladybug?”_ he gasped again, as reality began crashing around him. _Marinette was Ladybug. Marinette was—was Ladybug! He was in love with Ladybug, and always had been!_ “Marinette!” he gasped, then couldn’t hold himself back. He picked her up and kissed her fiercely. “It was you?”

She nodded and laughed, “It was always me,” she managed before he kissed her again and again. 

“I can’t believe it!”

She giggled, “I couldn’t either, at first. I’m so sorry it took me all this time to see it.” 

He just shook his head, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I left you—”

She put her finger to his mouth, “Shh, Minou. You already apologized, and I already forgave you, remember?” she said, and pulled out his letter from her pocket. 

He hesitantly fingered the letter he’d written so hastily. “You were looking for me?”

She nodded, “For the last seven years. And then, the second that I found you, you said you didn’t love Ladybug anymore, and I—I panicked.” She frowned, then clasped her hand over her eyes, “I’m _still_ panicking, if we’re being honest!”

He chuckled fondly as he pulled her wrist gently away from those fiery blue eyes that he never wanted to lose again. “I was lying,” he said repentantly, “I’ve always loved Ladybug, and always will. In my defense, I couldn’t exactly tell you all that last night.” She returned the fond giggle. “Thank you,” he said quietly, the electricity between them igniting, “for not giving up.”

She swallowed, fingering the ring box, “So, does that mean you’ll take the ring back?”

He looked down at the ring in her hands, knowing exactly what it meant and what awaited him, and paused. He felt as if this was this moment was the culmination of the last seven years—no, of his whole life. Everything had suddenly lined up and he had perfect clarity. “Only if you’ll accept this one from me,” he said slyly, letting his inner Chat Noir break free from the prison it had been caged in for so long. She gasped as his quirky grin slipped across his face and he fell to one knee. Adrien extracted the velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. The words poured effortlessly straight from his heart, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, my every day, in every way Ladybug, I love you more than life itself. You’ve always been My Lady and my Purrincess. Forget the unlucky black cat—I’m the luckiest guy in the world; I got to fall in love with you _twice!_ You are my entire world and I never want to lose you again. I want to be more than just your boyfriend or your husband—I want to be your partner, and for you to be mine. Please, Marinette, will you marry me?”

Marinette straightened up, popped a hip to one side, and flicked his nose, “Silly Kitty.” Adrien’s heart stopped beating as she leaned in slowly, “Of course I’ll marry you.” She grabbed his chin and kissed him for all she was worth. They didn’t break apart as he came back to his feet, nor did their lips leave each other as he slipped his mother’s ring on his incredible fiancée, and they didn’t even break as she placed his Miraculous on his right hand. 

“Oh goody,” a croaky voice growled from behind Marinette’s shoulder, “seven years stuck in the box and I come out to human mushiness and _no cheese!”_

Adrien laughed between Marinette’s teeth and she pulled him in even closer. Keeping her forehead on Adrien’s, she broke the kiss just enough to mutter, “Plagg, there’s plenty in my purse with Tikki. Welcome back buddy.”

Adrien rested his chin on Marinette’s head and turned to lock eyes with his kwami. Plagg smiled at Adrien knowingly, and Adrien whispered, “Thanks.” Plagg nodded once, wiped away a tear, and zipped down to Marinette’s side and phased through the pink fabric of her purse.

“Thank _you_ ,” he whispered, kissing her again.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she said, before the two lost themselves again in a wave of memories, healing, hope, and passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squee! There it is! 
> 
> I'm still going to add a few more chapters. Don't worry, there's plenty of fluff to come. <3


	18. Christmas Eve

Chapter 18

Chat Noir brushed the snow that was accumulating on Ladybug’s eyelashes away, then reached in and snuck a quick kiss. Well, not _too_ quick of a kiss. More like a lingering smooch. That turned into a passionate, long, drawn out kiss while Chat’s hands wandered from Ladybug’s cheek to her neck, to her shoulder, and down her arm slowly until their fingers interlaced and he thumbed the wedding band still discernable under her gloves.

“Mmm,” she moaned, “I’m never going to get tired of this.”

“You’re not?” he chuckled, “I’m the one who’s going to have to be airlifted out of here in a coffin.”

She stretched and leaned back, and opened her mouth to the sky, smiling in the brilliant sunlight. The tiny platform on the top of the Eiffel tower wasn’t the best place for reclining, but it was the only place in the city tall enough to reach over the bank of heavy snowclouds and enjoy the stunning sunrise, especially with a supersuit and the arms of your love to keep you warm. 

Ladybug yawned once, and Chat pulled her closer to him so she could rest her head on his chest. She traced the piping of his suit absentmindedly and sighed, “Coming up here was a good idea.”

He grinned, “It should be; I’ve only envisioned this a million times.”

She raised a teasing eyebrow, “A million?”

“You’re right, I’m exaggerating. The real total is probably closer to a billion.” She laughed even harder while he continued, “Seriously, I’ve wanted this for so long, it’s kind of embarrassing. Even when I knew it was impossible, even when I felt like you were untouchable, there was this longing and this wondering that even when I knew I needed to move on, I couldn’t.”

She tucked her face into his pectoral and squeezed his waist, “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

He shook his head into her hair, “You were _so_ worth the wait. Even though it was me who made you wait.”

She looked up at him with a pointed look, “Are we really going to stay up here all day arguing about who was the bigger dunce?”

He pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged, “Sounds like a good plan to me. Though maybe we should settle our argument with a duel.”

“Is that so?” she bit her lip, “You come all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower to challenge the mighty Ladybug to a duel? State your terms, little man.”

He leaned in, “No-kissing contest. The first person to give up and kiss the other loses.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and Chat nearly lost the contest then and there. She hesitantly fingered her lips, watching his hungrily, and nodded once. 

“Ok, here we go,” he breathed, leaning in seductively so their cloudy breath mingled in the centimeter between them, “Marinette—” he didn’t even get started on the sweet nothings he was planning on whispering to her, when she grabbed his cheeks and planted a huge kiss on his lips. “Ha!” he fist pumped the air, “I win!”

She pulled back and raised another eyebrow, “Are you calling me a dunce then?”

His jaw dropped, “Um, no, that’s not what I meant—”

She flicked his nose softly, “Silly Kitty.” Ladybug curled up and rested her head on his chest once again. “So, a patrol of the city and sunrise on top of the Eiffel Tower. What else would you like to do today, now that you’ve got your Miraculous back? Like I said, the sky’s the limit, you can pick anything.”

He snorted softly, “I’ve got everything I ever wanted, right here in my arms.”

“Awe,” she sighed, “You’re winning brownie points.”

He kissed her forehead and leaned back a bit against the tower pole that extended above them, “Let’s just enjoy this a little bit longer.”

She nodded softly and their conversation fell quiet as the two were enveloped in their thoughts. Chat Noir watched as the ice crystals sparkling in the air melted on the black fabric covering his arm and counted the six tiny arms of each one. He looked out over the blanket of fluffy white clouds, just thin enough to be pierced by his super-vision, and smiled contentedly as he picked out a few landmarks that brought him joy. No, not the landmarks the tourists flocked to the city to see, but places like the rooftop he’d prepared for a romantic evening with Ladybug, but then brought Marinette to without realizing his Lady had been with him the whole time, or the boats on the Seine just like the one he and Marinette had fought Evillustrator on. Dang, if he’d only known then that Marinette was Ladybug, he could have enjoyed ten years of moments like this one! But she was right—there was no use beating himself up for that. Those ten years were crucial for each of them, and the end result was more blissful than he’d ever imagined. 

As he sighed and inhaled the scent of her shampoo, Ladybug gave a soft snore. 

“Ladybug?” he purred, leaning back a bit so he could see her—her eyes had closed, and she was sound asleep. Well, it made sense—she probably hadn’t slept for coming up on forty-eight hours, though now that he thought about it, she’d probably gotten help from Tikki in the bakery the morning of the Gala… wow, that felt like a lifetime ago. He was getting stiff in his back anyway; it was probably time to go. But she was down for the count. Being careful not to let her head loll backward, Chat pulled Ladybug into his lap, then unhooked her yo-yo from her hip and used it to cradle her so he could carry her one-handed. Then he lifted her, extended his staff, and slowly lowered the two of them through the cloud bank, all the way to the base of the Eiffel Tower. The snow kept people at bay, so Chat had ample time and space to carry his Lady gently up the footpath. 

He’d almost made it to the edge of the Trocadero when someone gasped, “Chat _NOIR?_ ” 

It was Alya. She had several cameras strapped to her frame, apparently enjoying the way the Tower looked in the snow as well. Chat inhaled sharply, and turned to Alya, “Shh!” he said, nodding towards Ladybug, who shifted in her sleep to curl up against his chest even tighter. 

“Yes, but you’re _Chat Noir?”_ Alya whispered intensely. He smiled and winked. “Oh my gosh! You’re back! You’re back in Paris! Can I take a picture? How long have you been here? Where have you been for the last…however long it’s been?”

Chat held up a finger from behind Ladybug’s back, “All I can say is that you may not have seen my face for a while now, but my heart never left.”

“Wow,” she breathed, and Chat Noir granted permission for her to click a couple pictures. 

Ladybug smiled in her sleep and sighed, “Mmm, Chat, your body is so nice…”

Alya’s fingers slipped from the side of her camera, and her shocked eyes peered over the viewfinder. “Did she just… just talk in her sleep? And say your body is nice?”

Chat Noir looked down at his konked-out fiancée and shrugged, “Well, it _is_ nice, don’t you think?”

Alya was still gaping like a fish when Chat Noir lifted himself and Ladybug to the nearest rooftop and started running. He didn’t stop laughing until he had safely tucked Ladybug into Marinette’s bed some twenty minutes later. 

* * *

There was no doubt about it: Christmas Eve with Marinette’s family Adrien’s favorite thing ever. A long, cozy nap left Marinette and Adrien refreshed enough to help prepare le réveillon with Tikki, Plagg, Sabine, and Tom. Tom, of course, kept laughing and scoffing that Marinette was Ladybug and there were odd flying creatures in his kitchen, but Sabine would just smile fondly and stroke his head. Adrien watched the two of them with satisfaction—someday, that would be him and Marinette, thrilled just to be together, still madly in love even after thirty years. 

Speaking of Marinette, Adrien couldn’t keep his eyes (or hands) off her. She was intoxicating. He followed her around the kitchen like a kitten who had just found home. She taught him to shuck oysters, to sear scallops, and let him taste-test the buttery foie gras and all the sauces before pulling out piles of fancy dishes for Adrien to decorate. However, he wasn’t allowed near the Bouche de Noel—Marinette was under strict orders from Tom that only people with at least a thousand hours of training were allowed to touch it. Adrien laughed, and merely admired the stunning cake from afar, his mouth watering in anticipation. Marinette carefully placed marzipan mushrooms, candied cranberries and sprigs of rosemary, and a little sugar mouse over the chocolate ganache that enrobed the delicate cake, and Adrien watched, her, entranced. The way she moved, the way she phrased things, the way she smelled all the ingredients before preparing each dish, the way she walked slightly on the balls of her feet so it looked like she was dancing everywhere she went, the way she tickled Tikki’s cheek and kept tossing bits of cheese to Plagg from across the room—Adrien would marry her that evening if she’d let him.

The sun had long since set when guests began arriving for the traditional Christmas Eve meal—Marinette’s Grandfather and Grandmother, and then a few moments later—

The door flew open with a bang. “MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

Marinette squeezed Adrien’s hand from where they were standing in the residence kitchen. Marinette giggled, “We’re right here, Alya.”

Alya stormed in like a tornado. “CHAT NOIR IS BACK IN TOWN AND I SAW HIM AT THE EIFFEL TOWER WITH LADYBUG IN HIS ARMS! MARINETTE, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S BACK HE’S BACK! I’VE GOT TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET A HOLD OF HIM—THINK HE’LL GIVE ME AN INTERVIEW? FORGET THE INTERVIEW, LOOK AT THIS PICTURE! CHAT NOIR, _THE_ CHAT NOIR, UNLESS LADYBUG GOT A NEW PARTNER, BUT HE LOOKED JUST THE SAME! YES, IT’S REALLY HIM!”

“Um, Alya,” Marinette giggled, curling her arm around Adrien’s waist and pointedly scratching her nose with her left ring finger.

Alya wasn’t paying one iota of attention. “Oh, hey Adrien,” she muttered, before plowing headlong back to her excitement, “LOOK AT MY PHONE, LOOK AT IT! I WAS TAKING PICTURES OF THE EIFFEL TOWER, AND SUDDENLY CHAT NOIR CAME DOWN FROM THE TOP WITH LADYBUG IN HIS ARMS! I THINK THEY MIGHT HAVE A THING STARTING, YOU SHOULD HAVE _HEARD_ WHAT SHE SAID! HE SAID HIS BODY… HIS BODY… wait…” Alya’s voice trailed off as she suddenly noticed that Adrien was in the room, and that there was something shiny on Marinette’s ring finger. “What in the world are _you_ doing still in Paris, Adrien? And Marinette, what is _that_ on your hand?”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other, shrugged, and started laughing. “Surprise?” Marinette guffawed, then turned to her fiancé. “I guess our engagement isn’t as exciting as discovering that Chat Noir is back in town, but that’s ok. I just thought Alya might be interested in the details—”

Alya’s hands slammed on the table separating Adrien and Marinette and the young journalist, and a look of sheer, terrifying determination crossed her face. “Deets. Now.”

Adrien clutched his ribs and doubled over laughing, but then made a show of pulling Marinette to him and kissing her forehead. “She asked, I said yes. What more is there than that?” Adrien giggled.

“Wait, _she asked?_ Marinette, that’s so progressive of you! I love it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “It wasn’t really like that, at least not all the way. It was… pretty mutual, I suppose,” she winked at Adrien. “Right, love?”

He nodded and smiled at her tenderly. “One hundred-percent on the same page.”

“Well?” Alya continued as Sabine and Tom ushered the rest of the guests to the dining room. Nino waved at Adrien from the doorway, and everyone knew better than to try to get a word in edgewise when Alya was sniffing out a story, “Spill it! When are you getting married? Where are you planning on living? Did Adrien skip his flight? Are you going back to New York? Are you going to get a dog or a cat first? Are you—”

 _“Alya!”_ Marinette wailed, grabbing her friend by the cheeks to shut her up, “cool it!” Alya frowned and adjusted her glasses. “We _just_ got engaged this morning.”

Alya frowned again, “And you don’t have things figured out yet?”

Marinette made to make an excuse, but Adrien put his arm around her shoulder and shook his head, “I think I can answer most of those. We’re going to live here in Paris, just as soon as I can find a flat. Yes I skipped my flight.” Alya sighed dramatically and Adrien could have sworn hearts popped up in her eye, “We are not going back to New York; I’ll have someone send me my clothes. That’s all that’s there anyway. Everything that I love is right here.” He kissed Marinette’s ear and she giggled and blushed. “And a hamster. We’re getting a hamster, and we’re going to name him—”

“You missed the most important question!” Alya interjected, and all the other family members, who were listening to the interchange with rapt attention, erupted in excited chatter. 

“Yes,” Sabine nodded.

“Yeah,” Nino added, “When, dude, _when?”_

Marinette and Adrien turned to each other. He asked permission with his eyes, and she nodded once to grant it to him. He kept his eyes on hers as he spoke from his heart, “I’ve been waiting to marry you since I met you, even if it took me a while to realize it.”

She nodded, “Me too.”

Adrien winked, “And I know the dress is ready.”

She raised an eyebrow, “But you don’t have a tux.”

He tapped his lips playfully, “I know someone that could pick it up from my New York apartment and get it here easily enough. So, it’s settled then?” he crooned under his breath.

“Yep,” she nodded.

Adrien gave a sly grin to Alya, “Hey, everyone, what are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas, Scoobers and LadyGorgeous! We're not done yet, but it's getting closer. :)
> 
> For the record, I don't recommend anyone get married after only a week long engagement. But remember, 1-this is Fanfiction. 2-this is my cheesy Christmas movie style fanfic, and I'm trying to hit as many Hallmark movie tropes as possible, and 3-Marinette and Adrien have known each other for ten years. They know each other better than they know anyone else, and I can see them both chomping at the bit to get married, especially while Alya and Marinette's family are all in town. So, I stand by my choices. When in doubt, refer to number 1. LOL
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading! Next up... Marinette in white...


	19. Cathedrals and Dance Floors

“Just take deep breaths, sweetie. No need to be nervous.”

Marinette inhaled slowly and closed her eyes, “I’m not nervous. Believe it or not, I’ve never been so calm.” Tikki took the pearl-covered hairpin from Sabine and flew up to Marinette’s head to nestle it carefully in her curls. 

“I think that’s everything,” Tikki smiled, as Marinette stood and examined herself in the three-way mirror. The wedding gown she’d spent hundreds of hours on fit her beautifully, the tiny pearls shimmering slightly as she turned carefully. Her hair and makeup were perfect—thanks to her mother and Tikki’s work—and even Marinette had to admit she looked amazing. There was a soft knock at the door—Tikki whizzed and hid in Marinette’s bouquet—and Alya poked her head in.

“Hey, Mare? It’s time. Oh—” she gasped as she took in her best friend, “ _Oh,_ girl, you are going to kill him dead!”

Marinette laughed, and Alya swept into the bridal suite in her blush pink dress. “That’s the goal,” Marinette teased, “kill my husband before he’s even my husband!”

Alya circled around Marinette, nodding her approval. She whipped out her phone and snapped a couple quick pictures, including some selfies with her friend and a few of Marinette and her mother together, and then it was time to go. Marinette climbed the stairs to the rear entrance of the cathedral and followed the directions from the coordinator to get in line. Tikki peeked through the flowers of Marinette’s bouquet and winked. Marinette grinned and disguised stroking Tikki’s nose as adjusting the flower arrangement. She took a moment to breathe and remember how happy and peaceful she was right then. Knowing that Adrien was waiting for her just through these doors made her heart flutter with elation. This was the moment she’d been waiting for her entire life.

The coordinator gave Marinette a thumbs up and opened the doors, letting Nino and Alya through to find their seats. Sabine quickly turned and gave Marinette one last kiss. “I love you, my baby,” she smiled through watery eyes, “and I always will.”

Marinette kissed her mother’s cheeks, and Sabine started down the aisle. Suddenly, Marinette was alone in the alcove. She squeezed her eyes shut as the inevitable nerves set in. She’d been doing so well all day to avoid them; she supposed it was only fitting for them to pop up now. 

“Honey?” a warm, low voice pulled her from her nerves and made her spin around in surprise. Her father, still frail from chemotherapy, maneuvered his wheelchair beside her. 

“Papa!” she cried, “I thought you were already in there!”

He shook his head tenderly, “Marinette, my sweet girl, I couldn’t miss this chance to be with you, just you and me, for just a second.”

She smiled and stroked his paper-thin skin. “Papa, it’s not like I’m going anywhere—”

“I know. But I just wanted you to know that I love you. Ever since they put you in my arms—you were just a pink squirmy little thing—you’ve held my heart in your tiny little hands. I couldn’t be luckier than to have you as a daughter.” Marinette choked back a tear and merely leaned down to kiss her father’s cheek. “I also have something I wanted to give you,” he smiled coyly. “I didn’t want to say anything in case it didn’t work out, but the doctor assured me—” Tom braced his hands on the armrests of his wheelchair and slowly stood up. Marinette gasped in surprise. “My last scans were really great. The cancer’s in remission, and now it’s just healing.”

“What?” she said, her voice trembling. 

He nodded, “I need a couple weeks or so before running the bakery, of course, but… Marinette, can I walk you down the aisle?”

Marinette stopped trying to stop the tears and just let them flow. She nodded and wrapped her arm around her father’s. He was surprisingly sturdy, and having his warm, soft hand under hers brought her back to the place of calm she’d been enjoying all day. Tom smiled softly at his only child, and the two stepped forward confidently.

The music shifted. The audience stood. Adrien smoothed the front of his tuxedo. Marinette and Tom glided down the aisle serenely. Adrien turned and his jaw dropped for a moment when he locked eyes on his stunning bride. The march was a lot shorter than it looked like it should be, but perhaps that’s because Marinette had her father by her side. Tom took a moment before sitting down and turned to Adrien. “I know this is kind of against the rules,” he said, and the acoustics carried his voice to the back of the hall, “I’m not supposed to say anything right now.”

“Don’t worry, Papa,” Marinette smiled, “it’s my wedding, and I’m giving you permission.”

He chuckled and turned back to Adrien, “You’ve been the son I never had, Adrien. I just wanted you to know that if I could have walked both of you down the aisle, I would have. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already family, and this ceremony is just a formality.”

Adrien chuckled, his warm green eyes lighting up as he shook Tom’s hand firmly. “Thanks, Dad,” he smiled. 

Tom nodded once, looked to the priest, to Marinette, to Adrien, and back to the priest, “Ok, then, carry on.” As Tom sat, the audience laughed in delight.

And carry on it did. Marinette tried to stay focused on the words of the ceremony, not wanting to miss a thing. But when she turned to see Adrien looking at her, her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton and her vision turned hazy around the edges. There was only him. In the whole world, there was only him. 

There had only ever been him. Through all the ups and downs, through the battles and the laughs, through the heartbreak and the healing, there had only ever been him. 

He turned to her, took her hands in his, and looked into her eyes. The priest cleared his throat and smiled at Marinette. “Vows!” Marinette heard from her bouquet. Oh shoot! She’d gotten so caught up in Adrien’s soul-piercing gaze, that she had completely lost herself and forgotten where she was and what she was supposed to do next.

“Um,” Marinette started, nibbling on her lower lip, and inhaling sharply, “Adrien,” she managed, looking at his smooth shirt and excellently tailored suit. Plagg briefly stuck his head out from behind Adrien’s lapel and gave Marinette a wink. It was just the snap back to reality she needed, and Marinette lifted her chin to meet Adrien’s eye. “I used to think I was a normal girl with a normal life. But that was never true. I had a secret.” She winked once before moving on, “There was someone I loved more than anything. Yes, I thought I was in love with you when we were teenagers. But that was before I knew what love was. I dreamed of what kind of life we could have. I memorized everything about you—at least, all the surface stuff like your schedule and what kind of macaron you liked and all five of your names. But as the years drew on, my feelings for you changed. At first, I thought they were going away—that I didn’t love you anymore. After all, in my mind, love was about getting nervous and blushing and making far too many Christmas gifts, not the things I was feeling—like compassion and intrigue and concern. It took a long time for me to realize that my crush was deepening and changing into something much more real and long-lasting. I loved you. I wanted you to be safe and happy, and I was willing to sacrifice that silly future I had envisioned to give you even the smallest slice of happiness. 

“For so long, I thought I’d lost you forever. I’m so grateful I didn’t. Now, rediscovering our love for each other, and I realize I never lost you—you were still my whole world. So, Adrien, it’s with all the love in my heart that I promise to stay by your side, to be your partner and wife, to cherish you and help you and accept help in return. Since you’re my whole universe, I promise to fill that universe with as much light and joy as I can.”

He was barely keeping himself together, and Marinette brushed the single tear that leaked from his soft green eyes down his perfectly sculpted cheek. The priest spoke up, “Thank you, Marinette. Adrien, your turn.”

Adrien’s gaze hardened to a determined, piercing stare that made her weak all over. Her heart raced as he began. “Marinette,” he said quietly, “I don’t think it’s possible to express how I feel about you in words. Words are just sounds, strung together and assigned a meaning by generations worth of human beings in an attempt to communicate. Words are inadequate. My feelings for you are so much bigger than words can express. For example, I would use the word ‘friend’ to describe you, but that’s not enough. You’ve been my rock and my partner since the day we met. No, ‘friend’ will never do. What about ‘best friend?’ ‘Confidante?’ ‘Companion?’ Not nearly enough. Nothing perfectly embodies how you complete me, how our chemistry transcends normal human feelings, or how you taught me what love truly is and brought joy back into my life. ‘Lover?’ No. ‘Partner?’ No. ‘Girlfriend?’ ‘Fianceé?’ Even ‘wife’ won’t work. 

“Marinette, all I can say is that, while words will never be enough, I promise to spend the rest of my life showing how much I love you. In sickness and health, in good times or bad, wherever we are, ‘til death do us part.”

Marinette was grateful she’d already recited her vows, because she was so choked up, there was no way she could have spoken right now. All she could do was muster a whispered, “I love you,” back.

Marinette only had a moment to catch her breath before the priest continued with the ceremony. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, do you take Adrien Agreste to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He continued for a moment, but in her heart, Marinette was adding all kinds of better titles—her partner, of course. But also, her home, her family, her everything. 

“I do.”

“And do you, Adrien Agreste, take Marinette Dupain-Cheng, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Marinette watched Adrien carefully, not wanting to miss a single expression or feeling or word or breath of this moment. His mouth was curled upward ever so slightly—that classic Chat Noir smirk—and she melted again. How did she ever get so lucky? Was this truly her life? She had come so far, from a girl running late to class, to a superheroine just trying to figure things out one day at a time, to being alone and lost, to finding purpose and drive but missing love, to finding him again, and then in a beautiful circle of completeness, here she was, marrying the only man she’d ever truly loved.

“I do,” he said, full of passion and meaning and care. 

She placed the simple band around his finger, while vowing, “With this ring, I thee wed.”

As she gazed into his eyes, he winked slightly, and the Chat Noir smirk widened. Marinette raised an eyebrow—was he up to something? It was his turn. “With this ring,” he paused, “I thee wed.” She looked down at her hands as he revealed the wedding ring he’d picked out for her (and had been adorably tight-lipped about all week) and she gasped. He put a stunning wedding ring on her finger—platinum with a solitaire princess cut diamond that looked big enough to blind even the back-row guests. Then, he slipped his mother’s ring on next to it. The two nestled together beautifully and Marinette had to press her lips together to prevent any tears from falling. She sent him a questioning look, _How could you afford this?_ But he cryptically winked again, and she promised herself she’d grill him on it sometime later. 

“Then,” the priest smiled, “I pronounce you husband and wife, married in the eyes of men and God, until death you part.”

Adrien squeezed his bride’s hand, and the two turned to their excited friends, who erupted in cheers. It wasn’t much longer until Adrien wrapped his arm around Marinette’s waist and followed their friends out of the cathedral, and with bells declaring their nuptials, pulled her in for a long, warm kiss while everyone around them cheered. 

* * *

Marinette’s face was warm and soft under Adrien’s fingertips as he kissed her and stroked her cheek tenderly. The second kiss of married life was as great as the first had been, and as he tried the third and fourth, he realized it was only getting better. Now, he was somewhere around the fiftieth, and he was feeling a little punch-drunk with happiness. 

The wedding party had moved to a nearby reception hall for the evening, and all their friends and family were enjoying the food and dancing. Adrien sat next to Nino while Marinette made a trip to the restroom. 

“I gotta admit,” Nino chuckled, “I didn’t think you’d beat me to the altar.”

Adrien winked playfully, “I did. Hate to say it, but you’re slower than a turtle, man.”

Nino frowned and rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t love her, it’s just that she’s gone for months at a time for school, and my business didn’t take off until a year or so ago, and—”

Adrien shook his head once, “You know when the right time to plant a tree is? Ten years ago.”

Nino gaped for a second, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s never a perfect time. There’s always going to be things in the way. But once you take the plunge, you’ll wish you had years ago.”

Nino raised a skeptical eyebrow and folded his arms teasingly, “Says the guy who’s only been dating his wife for three weeks.”

Adrien leaned in intently, “Says the guy who should have seen her ten years ago.”

Nino nodded solemnly. Marinette was back on the dance floor now, and Adrien took a few moments to admire her beauty—the way her dress hugged her curves perfectly and draped to the floor elegantly, the way her hair brushed the nape of her neck like black ribbons of spun silk, or the way her bluebell eyes sparkled, even in the low light. 

“Well,” Adrien added to his best friend, “if you’ll excuse me, the love of my life is waiting, and I don’t want to miss another second with her. Heaven knows I’ve missed way too many.”

Nino clapped Adrien on the back, and the blonde stood and sauntered up to his stunning bride. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered into her ear as he wrapped his arms around you.

She playfully flicked his nose, “It’s been two and a half minutes.”

Adrien mused, “I wasn’t talking about you using the bathroom. I was talking about the last ten years. I’ve got some serious catching up to do.”

She thought for a bit, biting her lip, then winked, “Don’t you mean cat-ching up?”

Adrien’s jaw dropped, “A… a _pun?_ That could be the best wedding gift of the night!”

He spun her on the dance floor and the two laughed and danced and celebrated their love for hours more, until they could barely stay upright. At midnight, they counted in the New Year. At around one the morning, Adrien’s phone chimed an alarm.

“Well,” Adrien announced suddenly, “the time for our departure has come!”

“Awe!” the crowd collectively groaned. Marinette gave Adrien a scrutinizing look. He’d managed to keep all of this a surprise, and he loved the reaction he was eliciting from her. 

“There _is_ one thing we still need to do before we go, though,” Adrien smiled at Marinette. “I think it’s time for you to hand off your bouquet.”

“Oh, ok,” she grinned, and collected her flowers from the vase they’d been resting in. 

All of Marinette’s single friends moaned and groaned as they were shuffled into the center of the dance floor. Cameras clicked furiously as Marinette placed her hand over her eyes and threw the bouquet over her head. Adrien noted with pride that, even backwards and blind, she had an impressive arm and particularly good aim. The bouquet went far and high, and smacked Alya square in the face. Her glasses went askew, and everyone laughed at the stunned look on her face.

“No fair,” Alya groaned, “You did that on purpose! You knew I wasn’t going to try to catch it!”

Marinette turned around as everyone laughed, “Oh, did I hit you? Sorry, Als, you know how clumsy I am,” she winked. Alya deadpanned back at her friend.

“I don’t know,” Adrien chuckled, “that looked like fate to me.”

Everyone erupted in assent. “Yeah, Alya, no escaping it!” Manon chirruped.

“You’re bound for the altar!” Mylene sang.

Rose swooned, “You deserve it!”

“If only Nino would get off his lazy butt,” Alix whooped, and everyone—except for Nino, that is—laughed delightedly.

Nino was slightly pale and Alya was giving him an apologetic look, but then he held up his hand and the crowd fell silent. “You’re right,” he said, striding across the dance floor to his longtime girlfriend and taking hand, “you’re all right. It’s high time, don’t you think?”

She adjusted her glasses and looked him up and down. “Serious?” she asked.

He nodded, “If you wanna, I’m game.”

She gave a small snort of a laugh, then shrugged, “Sure, why not?” And with that, the crowd erupted into applause again, Nino twirled Alya and pulled her into a low dip, which he closed with a deep kiss. He brought her back to her feet, then pulled a ring box out of his pocket. 

“Wait, you’re _serious?_ ” she gasped.

“Totally. No backing out of it now, dudette.” He revealed a beautiful engagement ring, Alya put it on, and Adrien and Marinette grinned at each other. 

“Pound it,” Adrien whispered in Marinette’s ear, and the two covertly met fists. Nobody saw them duck out to change their clothes and prepare for departure.

Once the excitement from the Nino and Alya’s unexpected engagement had died down, Marinette and Adrien bid adieu to their friends and family, including many hugs and kisses, and Adrien drove them away in their classic Rolls Royce. The noise and excitement of the day faded as soon as they rounded the curve of the road, and Marinette slipped her hand over Adrien’s thigh.

“Well, it’s just the two of us now,” he said softly.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “Now,” Marinette smirked, “are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He winked, “Nope, it’s a surprise.”

She tried to guess as Adrien drove them to the airport. “Oh,” she said frowning, “we’re flying somewhere?”

“Yep,” he grinned. 

“I didn’t pack much—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Adrien winked, “it’s fully furnished.”

“Fully…” The wrinkle between her eyebrows deepened. “Adrien,” she diverted, “it’s the middle of the night. And I didn’t even give you information for tickets—”

“Marinette!” he chuckled, “seriously, don’t worry about it!”

She pouted playfully. He drove past the terminal and to a parking area that seemed to confuse Marinette. “Adrien, I don’t think we’re allowed to be back here.”

They drove through a gate that opened just for them, and Adrien stopped the vehicle. As he climbed out, an attendant approached. Adrien tossed the keys to the attendant and opened the door for Marinette. Holding her delicate hand in his, she looked around with a concerned expression. The small, white plane was waiting for them, the engine already warm. “Wait, we’re flying in _this?_ ”

He laughed again, “I think you’ll find, my dear, that there’s some perks to being an Agreste.”

“Well,” she scoffed, “I know your family had a private jet when we were in college, but I thought you got rid of that with the liquidation of the business.”

“The liquidation? Oh… _Felix,_ ” he grumbled under his breath.

“Oh, honey, don’t, it’s ok,” she muttered, “sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up—”

“No,” Adrien laughed, shaking his head, “you don’t understand. Felix thinks that _Gabriel_ is bankrupt, that all the assets are gone, and that I’m destitute. But that’s not really the case. I am still leaving the business, I’m still going to be a physics professor, and I really crave the simple, beautiful life that we’ll have together, but the business has been in safe hands for years. I told Felix, and Jacqueline, for that matter—wow,” he mused, “that feels like forever ago… anyway, I told them the business was going under because I felt like something was off and I wanted to see how they’d react. That’s when I found out how superficial our relationship had been. But it wasn’t ever true. The company is going through some major rebranding, and I’ve still got a controlling stake in it, even though I won’t be the face of the company anymore and will take a much more passive role. But the fortune, the plane, the assets? Well, consider that a wedding gift.”

Marinette shook her head slowly, “A gift? Adrien… but I don’t care about any of that. I mean, I’m glad that you don’t have to deal with a corporation folding under you and all that, but… it was never important to me that you have money. All I wanted was the house and the hamster, truly! We’re both hard workers, we both have lots of talents, I knew we’d figure things out as we went—”

Adrien paused and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him in the cold night air, “I know. That’s why I love you so much, Marinette, because you love me for exactly who I am, nothing else. You’ve never placed demands on me, or expected me to fulfill any roles, or put conditions on your love. And when we come back home, it’ll just be you and me and the hamster… and sometime, hopefully soon, some kittens?” She flushed. He kissed her softly between her eyebrows. “We can stick all the money in a fund for our kids’ education and stuff. But on special occasions, you’re going to have to deal with the fact that I just want to spoil you rotten. Starting with the honeymoon.”

She looked at the impressive airplane, the car that was being driven away by the valet, and then back at Adrien, sighed and smiled, and said, “Alright, Monsieur Agreste, take me away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did as much research as I could feasibly do to make this a French wedding, even though I'm American. I know there's a lot I've messed up, but certain things, like not having a maid of honor or a "you may kiss the bride" moment are because that's how things are done in France, as I understand them. Just like I ask you to gloss over the legal discrepancies in the courtroom scene, I ask you to gloss over the gaps in tradition in this chapter. One thing I totally ignored is the fact that French couples have two weddings--a legal ceremony typically at a court, and then the religious ceremony. I plan to address in an upcoming chapter, so please understand that Adrien and Marinette had their legal ceremony either the day before or the morning of, and it wasn't noteworthy.


	20. The French Alps

The sun grazed Marinette’s cheek and neck, making her skin glow as she slept. Adrien touched the silky hair that was splashed across her white pillowcase. She smiled sleepily. Slowly, very slowly, her lashes fluttered open, she yawned, stretched, and pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. “Mmm,” she smiled, “good morning, Love.”

He laughed slightly, “Don’t you mean good afternoon?”

She scratched her nose and looked over Adrien’s shoulder at the clock, “It’s my honeymoon. If I say it’s morning, it’s morning.”

“Oh gosh you’re adorable,” he crooned, snuggling next to her warm body. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Hungry. Ready to tackle the world. But I wouldn’t mind another day in this magnificent cabin,” she said sweeping her hand her to indicate the master suite of their cabin. Adrien left the bed briefly to open the drapes and let the sun in properly. The floor-to-ceiling windows had a stunning view of the French Alps and the snow-blanketed pine trees towering as far as the eye could see. It had snowed steadily for the last three days (not that Adrien and Marinette had minded at all), but at last, the skies had cleared and were now a sparkling, crystal blue as clear and bright as Marinette’s captivating gaze. 

“You can have as much time in this cabin as you want,” Adrien winked, “but I had some ideas for today, if you’re wanting an adventure.”

Marinette stretched and sat up in bed, “An adventure sounds pretty nice, I must say.” 

“Well, then great. Want to see what’s in the closets?”

Marinette grinned, climbed out of bed, and the two explored the untouched closet. Adrien smiled as Marinette lit up at the options before her. He’d gotten her measurements from Tikki (having a kwami around to help plan the perfect honeymoon was more helpful than he’d ever dreamed) and tasked the cabin prep crew with making sure Marinette would have everything she needed. The little red kwami met the two of them in the closet and gave Adrien a small high-five as Marinette ran her fingers over a variety of coats, thick woolen socks, fleece-lined leggings, comfortable sweaters, elegant skirts and delicate tops—truly anything Marinette would like. She eventually settled on a pair of jeans and a simple white T-shirt, but when she put them on, Adrien was still agog at her beauty. “You’re stunning, you know that?” he smiled.

“In a T-shirt?” she giggled.

“Yeah,” he nodded fervently. 

“I think you’re a tad biased, sir,” she winked as she made her way to the kitchen. 

“Indeed I am,” he laughed, racing up and gripping her sides, lifting her up and pulling her in to him. “I just can’t get over you—how beautiful you are, how smart, how powerful, how kind…”

She tossed her head back, her hair rippling over his arm, “And you’re incorrigible. How are we ever supposed to eat breakfast—”

“Lunch—”

“Whatever. How are we supposed to eat if every time I try to get in the kitchen to make something, you snatch me up and start laying on the compliments?”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Do you not like my compliments?”

“I do,” she moaned, letting him carry on a bit, “but I’m _starving,_ Adrien.”

He chuckled and set her on her feet. “And what would you like for,” he made dramatic air quotes, “‘breakfast,’ Mademoiselle?”

She popped a hip, put on a sultry smirk that made Adrien’s heart race, and crooned, “If you’re going to tease me about sleeping in for the first time in the last seven years, I may just make something you hate, just for spite.”

Adrien picked his jaw up off the floor—she was _so_ alluring when she was flirting like that—and laughed, “I’d like to see you try. Make something I don’t like, that is.” Marinette’s competitive side, which always bubbled just below the surface, erupted in the way her eyes lit up, and Adrien had to reign her in quickly before she got carried away. “But you really don’t need to, we can have food delivered like the last couple days—”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m sick of being waited on hand and foot. Besides, my husband just challenged me to make something he doesn’t like, and you know I can’t back down from a challenge.”

“Marinette,” he groaned as she barreled into the glistening kitchen, “I was going to spoil you—”

She spun on her toe, already perusing the refrigerator for ingredients and held up her finger, “You can spoil me by looking through the pantry there for anything that looks disgusting.” She winked. His heart swelled as he watched her. For the umpteenth time since New Year’s Eve, Adrien thanked himself for marrying her. Being with Marinette was so much better than he had envisioned—and he’d envisioned some pretty amazing things. “Mushrooms? Do you hate mushrooms?” she asked eagerly.

“N—” Adrien began, but then thought better of himself as her brilliant eyes pierced his soul. “Y-yeah!” he nodded enthusiastically. “I hate them with a passion!” He knew that nothing she touched could ever turn his stomach. 

“And what about eggs?”

“Disgusting!” he grinned.

Her musical laugh filled the kitchen. “Ok, will you take Tikki and Plagg their breakfast and get the table set? I’ve got a plan.” 

It didn’t take Adrien long to toss a chunk of cheese to Plagg and give Tikki a leftover pastry from the box he’d ordered the day before, and then to locate a pair of plates and some silverware. Marinette danced her way around the kitchen, slicing mushrooms and frying pancetta, until Adrien’s stomach was aching with hunger. “Can’t I help with anything?” he begged.

“Not this time, Minou,” she smiled. “It’s my turn to spoil you. Um, I mean, make you something that you hate.”

She was soon laying a fluffy, folded omelet on his plate, with a baguette on a bread board between them, and two tall glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. “Bon Appetit,” she winked. “I hope you can stomach it.”

“An _omelet?_ ” he playfully groaned, “How did you know the one thing I can’t stand?” 

He sunk his fork into the delicate egg dish and pulled away a string of oozing cheese and avocado. The first taste tested his resolve—it was rich and savory, with just the right pop of freshness from the chives she’d sprinkled on the top. The second bite was even better as he got a mouth full of crispy pancetta and caramelized mushrooms. She handed him a chunk of baguette, dunked in olive oil and tangy balsamic vinegar, and he completely fell apart. “I… I… I can’t help it, Marinette, this is _divine!”_

She laughed, digging into her own omelet. “Oh darn, I guess I’ll have to try something different for dinner.”

He frowned, “Oh shoot,” he took another bite of the creamy omelet and a sip of the sweet juice, and added, “I forgot what we were betting on.”

She took a bite and tapped her lips with her fork, “You know, I’m not sure. But I’ve got a feeling that you’re going to _hate_ my boeuf bourguignon.”

He grinned playfully, “Most likely.”

They finished their breakfast, and Adrien cleaned up while Marinette took further inventory of the kitchen. “Yeah, I think I’ve got all the ingredients. If I need something, do you think I can request it delivered? I don’t want to insult anyone--”

He scratched his head, “Insult anyone? How would you insult anyone?”

She toed the floor hesitantly, “If I asked the, you know, the _staff—”_ she said the word as if it hurt her, “for specific ingredients. They’ve been so attentive these last few days, bringing whatever we want and just leaving it, I don’t want them to think I’m not grateful.”

Adrien hugged her tenderly, “You think about others so much, I’m always amazed. I’m sure the chef would be happy to send whatever you want.”

She nodded into his chest and seemed to relax. “Ok, good, because I used up all the mushrooms, and it would be best if we had some more.”

“For boeuf bourguignon?” he queried.

“Of course. Why, did you think I was joking?” she let go and went back to the dishes she was cleaning, even though Adrien had told her not to worry about dishes while they were here. Cleaning up seemed to soothe her, and so he simply helped her instead.

He wiped down the table where they’d been sitting, “Kind of, I guess. But it does sound wonderful. I just had some other ideas for today—”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s a slow dish. What did you have in mind?” 

Adrien grinned wickedly and looked out over the back patio, “That’s a surprise.”

“Oh, ok,” her voice was dripping with sarcasm, “ _be_ that way. Well, will you at least tell me how I should dress for the surprise? And how much time I should plan for?”

“A few hours, at least. And winter finest.”

She nodded, “Ok, let me get dinner in the oven, then I’m all yours.”

Adrien couldn’t help himself as he watched her in her element. It wasn’t that she was cooking for him—it was that she was thinking about him. Thinking about both of them, about the future, and about being with him. The feeling was still fresh and surreal and serendipitous. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she flitted from one task to the next. She made living look so easy. But then again, with Marinette, living _was_ easy. He sighed, “Gosh, I love you.”

She paused slicing the beef roast she’d rustled up, and leaned over the island countertop to grab the collar of his shirt like she might grab the bell on his Chat Noir suit, and brought him in for a kiss, “I love you too, Kitty.”

He cupped her jaw in his hands and returned her passion double fold. He was climbing on the counter to get at her, but she coyly backed away, and teased, “Not so hasty, young man. I’ve got bacon that can’t burn over here.”

Adrien chuckled, “Very well, _be_ that way. I’m going to go get ready. Unless you’ll let me help here?”

She looked around at the pots she had out, and then shook her head with a grin. “Tikki and I will finish this up, and I’ll be ready in no time. You have no idea how quickly I can get ready for an outing.”

He smiled and kissed her nose, “Oh darling, yes I do. You may have thought I wasn’t paying attention in college, but I was. I know all about the bedroom-to-schooldesk records you held… six and a half minutes, if I’m not mistaken?”

She frowned and looked at the ceiling, “No, I’m pretty sure it was five and a quarter.” She spanked him playfully, “Now go!”

Adrien did as he was told.

* * *

Marinette was triple layered in all the winter clothes she could find in the gorgeous cabin, and still stood by the oven for warmth. The room was already smelling of beef and vegetables. Adrien finally joined her and put his arms around her fluffy layers. She patted his arms and chest and frowned, “We’d better not be outside long—you’ll freeze out there!”

He shook his head, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it weeks, no, _years_ ago—you inherited the ladybug’s natural hate for the cold. Most of the time, ladybugs hibernate, did you know that? Me? It’s like I’m wearing cat fur. Fuzzy _and_ su- _purr_ cozy.”

“I did know ladybugs hibernate,” she frowned, “but I didn’t think we retained any characteristics from our alter egos.”

Adrien shrugged, “Well, I know I have particularly good hearing and vision. I can hear your yo-yo zipping when no one else can. And I stay plenty warm in the winter.”

Marinette pouted, “If that’s true, it’s not fair. All I get is being particularly cold.”

“And lucky,” he noted, reaching in and stealing a kiss on the little patch of skin still showing. 

“That’s true,” she admitted, as he pulled her to his side and guided her out the front door to where their pair of snowmobiles waited. “I’m _awfully_ lucky,” she grinned as she climbed on the back of Adrien’s snowmobile and wrapped her arms around his waist. She inhaled the smell of his shampoo and reveled in his body heat as Adrien started up the machine and revved the engine. He tore away from the cabin, snow arcing in a wake behind them, and powered up the mountainside. 

The Agreste cabin was nestled behind a grove of pine trees, facing the valley below them and the ridge of mountains beyond. Marinette had been shocked when Adrien had brought her here three days ago, and it still took her breath away. She was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that all this was hers, that it was her life. She shook her head and grounded herself. It wasn’t hers. It was Adrien’s. Of course, when she said something like that out loud, he would just kiss her and remind her that she was an Agreste now and she should feel free to take ownership in his belongings. But inside, she wasn’t there yet. This cabin, the staff that was probably already cleaning while they were out for the day, the clothes, the helicopter and the plane and the snowmobile and the cars—that wasn’t _hers._ It wasn’t even theirs. It was his, and he was generous enough to share. 

Marinette sighed. No. It _was_ hers. Weird and unexpected as it was, this was reality. She was really grateful she’d put that boeuf bourguignon in the oven before they’d left for whatever it was Adrien had planned. It was a small piece of normalcy that she was clinging on to for dear life. It wasn’t that this life was bad—it was just that it was going to take some time to understand. 

The trip to wherever Adrien was going wasn’t a long one—over a hill, up a winding path, between some trees, and then it opened up to a clearing, and then a large lodge came into view. There were ski lifts overhead. “Skiing? We’re going skiing?”

Adrien turned around and smiled at her and shook his head. “Nope.”

She frowned, perplexed, “Not skiing? What then?”

He grinned, his white teeth flashing against the snowy surroundings, “Something I promised you I’d do. Sorry it took so long, but as you know, finding _just_ the right spot can be tricky. And the snow has to cooperate.”

Marinette racked her brain. “Wait,” she said, remembering the first few dates they went on, back when she still thought he was dating Jacqueline, “ _sledding_?”

Adrien grinned, parked the snowmobile, and climbed off. It was a short hike to a line of innertubes, toboggans, and sleds of every shape and size. There was a pretty good crowd at the resort, already enjoying the slopes, but Adrien paid them no attention. He grabbed a toboggan and set it up. “Climb aboard, Madame Agreste!” She laughed and sat in the front, so Adrien straddled her from behind. “I’ll have you know,” he noted with pride, “this is the best ranked sledding spot in all of France.”

She lifted an eyebrow—not an easy task under her face mask and hats, “Really?”

He nodded, “Now, hold on tight. This might be a bumpy ride.” She gripped the rope and smiled, feeling like his words were poetic.

As Marinette pushed off down the hill, and as they started picking up speed, she felt safe in Adrien’s arms, and it struck her—their marriage was just like this sledding ride: new, unexpected, fast, full of twists and turns, but exhilarating. And as long as she was with Adrien? Well, she knew she was safe. With him by her side, she could take the wealth and the fame and the hard times and the quiet moments. They reached the end of the hill, and Marinette couldn’t stop smiling. 

“That was awesome! Wanna go again?” he grinned, dragging the toboggan over to the sled lift that would take them back to the top of the hill.

She bit her lip and grabbed his hand and nodded, “With you? Definitely.”


	21. Next Christmas and New Year's Eve

Just shy of a year later…

Adrien hummed to himself as he checked the texture of the boeuf bourguignon: it fell apart with the slightest pressure from his fork. Perfect. He grinned and turned the oven to keep warm, then proceeded to unpack the bread and start the salad that would accompany his masterpiece of a meal. He was setting the salads and bread on the dining table when the buzzer started ringing urgently. Adrien frowned—they weren’t expecting anyone tonight, and his wife wasn’t going to be returning home from a day volunteering as Ladybug through the front door. Maybe she’d decided to stop for groceries? Still, strange. 

“I’m coming,” Adrien grumbled as the buzzer rang over and over again. He skipped down the marble stairs of their apartment entrance and opened the front door. The jovial mood that had accompanied him all day evaporated. _“Felix?”_ Adrien gasped, “I didn’t expect to see _you_ here.”

Felix clearly hadn’t had it easy the last year or so. He used to wear crisp suits with sleek hair. Tonight, his suit was rumpled and his hair long and messy. Several days’ worth of stubble adorned his chin, except for the bald patch of scar tissue that stretched along his cheek. “You’re a regular prat, you know that?”

Adrien frowned, “Hey, man, if you just came over to insult me, you can take it up with my—”

“Shut up and _listen_ to me,” Felix ordered. “I know you don’t think family’s worth anything, but you owe me at least one good conversation.”

Adrien glared at his cousin. “That’s rich, coming from a guy who wouldn’t return my phone calls, wouldn’t talk to me for months…”

Adrien started to close the door, but Felix threw his hand out to prevent it from latching. “Adrien, I know who you are. You and Marinette both. Chat Noir.”

 _Shoot_. Adrien took a breath. Had Adrien not practiced schooling his face for years, he may have lost it right then and there, but he kept his cool, and merely raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

Felix muscled his way into the apartment and out of the chilly December air. “It’s quite the coincidence that Chat Noir decided to return to Paris the same time as Adrien Agreste. And left the same time as you to boot.”

Adrien weighed this evidence carefully, trying not to let his concern taint his features. “I’m not following your logic.”

“ _And,_ the second Chat comes back he’s suddenly dating Ladybug, and the two are seen kissing all over Paris. At the exact same time that you and Marinette hooked up.” Adrien inhaled slowly and tried to formulate a professional response, but Felix plowed ahead, pacing and running his hand over the back of his head nervously, “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to buy the mansion back from me. You’re going to reinstate me on the board of directors of _Graham De Vanily Studios,_ and you’re going to help me get Jackie back, or I’m going to unmask you both in front of the whole world. I think the New Year’s Eve celebration in three weeks ought to be public enough.” Felix was trying to be intimidating, but all Adrien could feel was pity for his cousin.

“Are you threatening me?” Adrien asked carefully, covertly reaching into his pocket to begin his phone recording.

“No, just demanding what you stole from me,” he glowered.

“Felix,” Adrien responded calmly, “I didn’t steal anything from you. As I recall, you begged me to sell you the mansion. And I’m quite happy right here with my wife; I’m not interested in buying it back.”

Felix stomped his foot, “You _will_ buy it back—you had to have known the shape it was in! Why, it hadn’t even been a month when the plumbing started leaking—the whole bottom floor was flooded for _days_! You didn’t disclose the cracked foundation either, or the—”

“We had an inspection done before the sale, and you signed off on it. I’m sorry there were maintenance issues after the finalization of the sale, but it _is_ your property. That’s how it goes,” Adrien shrugged, trying to swallow his delight. 

Felix glowered, “You _knew_. Maybe not about the mansion, but at least about the company. You knew I was pulling stock out of _Gabriel._ You lied to me about the future of the company and told me it was going to fold, and then it posted record-high numbers instead. You knew it was going to flourish under new management and I was going to lose _everything._ ”

Adrien shook his head sadly, “Again, Felix, I’m so sorry.”

“You knew! You lied to me! Liar!”

Adrien smirked slightly, “I didn’t lie to you, I told _Jacqueline_ that I didn’t have money—”

“Which was a lie!”

“Which was a _test_ ,” Adrien corrected. “And she ended our relationship immediately. The relationship that was always a sham,” he noted bitterly. “But it ended the way it should have. I found Marinette, I found happiness, and I regret nothing. If Jacqueline regrets her choices, that’s a burden she has to bear—”

Felix sneered, “Leave Jackie out of this. You destroyed her life.”

Adrien paused and gave a sad look to his cousin, “You really care about her, don’t you? Shoot, Felix, I didn’t know you felt that strongly for her.”

Felix rounded on him, “Shut up! Cut out this pedantic holier-than-thou attitude! You fed her false information, banking on the fact that she’d hedge her bets on it!”

Adrien shook his head, “Felix, that’s not how this works. I told her I was leaving my job, which was true. I admit I didn’t leak inside information about the internal affairs of the company but considering the way she jumped on the lie I fed her, I’m glad I didn’t. Otherwise, we’d all be in prison right now for insider trading.”

“Arg!” Felix yelled, lunging at Adrien, who ducked, and Felix stumbled forward, grasping at air. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Adrien shook his head sadly and opened the door for his cousin. 

“You didn’t acknowledge what I said, though. About Chat Noir and Ladybug.”

Adrien chewed his lower lip for a moment, then smiled, “What about them?”

“You don’t deny it.”

Adrien blinked, “Could any of us in this city _prove_ we’re not Ladybug and Chat Noir? That’s proving a negative, Felix. Even you should see the logical fallacy there.”

Felix grumbled and folded his arms in a childlike pout, “But you don’t deny it.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, “You’re delusional. Get out.”

“But you _owe me!”_

“Get _out,”_ Adrien reiterated, and at last, Felix stomped out of the apartment, throwing one last nasty look at Adrien before the latter slammed the door in his face. 

It took several minutes for Adrien to get his heartbeat back to normal. He heard the window slide open upstairs and then Ladybug’s footfalls. He was still panting and clutching his chest nervously when Marinette poked her head into the hallway. “Love? Dinner smells _amazing!”_ Then, catching sight of Adrien’s ashen face, “Oh, darling, what’s wrong?” she gasped, racing to him and throwing her arms around him.

“Felix was just here.”

“Felix?”

Adrien nodded, “Come here, I’ll tell you everything.”

* * *

Nino was giving his new wife a foot rub as she unloaded the stress of a long day in the newsroom. He smiled to himself as she went on and on. Typical, passionate, brilliant Alya. He wouldn’t have her any other way. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “What was that?” Alya yelped.

Another knock. “That’s not the door,” Nino frowned, “that’s the _window._ ”

“Who’s knocking on the window, though?” she fretted as the two of them jumped to their feet. Nino armed himself with a fire poker and Alya whipped out her phone and started the camera. A third knock on the window and muted voices made them even more nervous.

“Who is it?” Nino shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

“Oh!” Alya gasped, racing to the window and opening it to the chilly air, “It’s Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

The two superheroes jumped to the floor, and Nino just stood there gaping. “Of all the people in Paris, I did _not_ expect you two to just… stop by…”

Paris’s greatest superheroes looked at each other, smiled, and then turned back to Alya and Nino. “Sorry to just show up out of the blue,” Ladybug offered, “but it wasn’t like we could call.”

Alya waved her hand, thrilled she was getting all this on camera. “It’s all good. Are you needing the citizens of Paris for anything? What’s going on? Is there another supervillain?”

Ladybug shook her head, then exchanged another meaningful look with Chat Noir, before turning back to Alya’s camera. “No, nothing like that. We just wanted you to be the first to know. Tell them, honey,” she urged.

Chat Noir continued with a cat-that-got-the-cream grin, “Well, it’s no secret that Ladybug and I have been mar--dating for this last year. What most people don’t know is that it’s been a lot longer than that. So, finally, after asking for _eight_ years…”

“Yes yes,” Ladybug playfully rolled her eyes, “we’re getting married!”

“OH MY GOSH!” Alya squealed, dropping her phone and racing forward to hug Ladybug and Chat Noir. The superheroes patted the reporter’s back awkwardly, before Alya regained her composure and went to retrieve her forgotten phone. Nino smiled and handed it to her—he’d caught it out of the air when she dropped it. “Oh, thanks babe,” she said sheepishly. He merely chuckled fondly.

“Congrats, dude and dudette,” Nino smiled. “That’s totally awesome. Married life is the best. So, when’s the date? What’s the plans? Can we come?”

Chat Noir winked, “And who’s the reporter in this relationship?”

Nino blushed and Alya kissed his cheek, “It’s ok, babe, I’ll take it from here. So, Chat Noir, when’s the date? What’s the plan?”

Everyone laughed. Finally, Ladybug interlaced her hand with Chat’s and smiled softly for the camera, “We’re getting married on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh really? That’s so cool! My best friend got married last year on New Year’s Eve!”

Ladybug blinked a few times, “Is that so? Wow, what a fun coincidence. Anyway, we really want to share our love with the whole city. After all, Paris has been as much a part of our relationship as anything else.”

“That’s adorable! You hear that, everyone?” Alya said, flipping the camera to face her briefly, “Ladybug and Chat Noir want you all to be there!”

“That’s right,” Chat Noir reiterated, “We want the _whole_ city in attendance. We’ll be married on the Eiffel Tower on New Year’s Eve. You’re all invited, so dress up, and come at noon for the party of a lifetime!”

Alya was bouncing with excitement. “Are you going to have a religious ceremony or anything?”

Chat and Ladybug exchanged another knowing look, then Ladybug began carefully, “Because we need to keep our identities a secret, it’s going to be mostly a symbolic ceremony, but know that we’re getting legally married first. Nobody will know what couple we are, but it’s happening.”

Alya nodded once, “Understood. Well, anything else you want to ask?”

Chat nodded once, “Yeah. We like the china with the pink flowers and silver filigree—”

Ladybug slapped his arm and he playfully winced, “Hush, you,” she reprimanded with a lilt to her voice. “Nobody listen to a word he says! We’d actually like you to not bring any gifts, but rather pay it forward to a charity of your choice, or just do a good deed. Let’s celebrate a new year of love, kindness, charity, hope, and everyday superheroes.”

“Excellent!” Alya whooped. “Well, that’s your Ladyblogger, here with Ladybug and Chat Noir, who just announced their wedding coming up in just a few weeks. Let’s band together and make their dream wedding come true!”

She waved goodbye to the camera. Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t move. “There’s something else we’d like to talk to you about, off the record,” Ladybug said. Alya blinked in confusion, and pointedly stowed her phone away.

“I’m all ears,” Alya said. 

Chat stepped forward with a familiar hexagonal box in his hand. “As you might guess, a big, public wedding is sure to attract unwanted attention. We need your help with some security. You up for the job?”

Alya was already bouncing just looking at the box. She grinned, “It’s been _so_ long since I got to be a superheroine. You two seriously just made my day.”

* * *

The day couldn’t have been more perfect—the sky was crystal clear; the whole Trocadero was packed with people. Marinette and Adrien were mulling around with the crowd, enjoying treats donated by dozens of Paris’ finest vendors and enjoying the festoons of flowers and colorful bunting that adorned every streetlamp in the vicinity. The city was alive and excited. 

“Hey, Nino,” Adrien said nonchalantly as they approached their friend, “pretty exciting, isn’t it?”

Nino looked a little distracted—his eyes darted over the crowd and kept wandering up to the rooftops above them—“Yeah, super.”

“I imagine Ladybug and Chat Noir should be arriving soon,” Marinette said congenially. “Any idea where Alya is?”

“Alya?” Nino’s voice cracked, “Um, she’s… she’s busy!”

“Oh?” Marinette frowned, “That’s too bad, I’m sure she’s disappointed to miss the big day.”

Nino worried his lip with his teeth, “No, she’s busy recording. Yeah, she’ll be behind a c-camera all day.”

“I see,” Marinette smiled, then interlaced her fingers with her husband’s and squeezed. “Well, if you see her before we do, let her know that we think it’s amazing, everything she’s done for Ladybug and Chat Noir. I’m sure they appreciate it.”

“Will do,” Nino nodded shakily, before looking over the rooftops again. Adrien and Marinette blended back into the crowd. Adrien was shaking from suppressing his laughter.

“Laying it on _awfully_ thick, aren’t we, Milady?”

She tittered behind her scarf, “It’s all part of the plan. Make sure we’re seen by anyone and everyone, so even if Felix decides to make a scene, we’ll have plenty of witnesses on our side.”

Adrien reached in and kissed her temple, “You are _brilliant,_ you know?”

She grinned, “So they tell me. Now come on, Andre’s set up his ice cream cart over here, and if there was one thing from our wedding last year that I wished we could have had, it was sweetheart’s ice cream.”

Adrien shook his head and glared, “No way, you’ll freeze. Then you’ll whine all night long about how cold you are, and you’ll insist we just climb into bed and then you’ll stick your frozen feet right on my back and— _what is so funny?_ ”

“I would never stick my frozen feet on your back!” she guffawed.

“You would too! You do it every night!”

“Well, you said it yourself, you never get cold! You can handle it! What’s the point—” she leaned in so only he would hear her voice, “of having a handsome cat-husband who can _actually_ purr if not for unlimited cuddles when I’m cold?”

He gave her a sardonic frown and let her lead him to the ice cream cart. They were just settling into their blackberry and mint double scoop when a smile twitched on Adrien’s face. “She’s coming. It’s starting.”

“What?” Marinette asked.

“Ladybug. I can hear her yo-yo.”

“Really? I mean, I know you can, but that’s just… that’s something else.”

Adrien winked. Sure enough, a collective gasp and cheer rose over the crowd. Music started playing over the loudspeakers, and then the Mayor announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you’ll direct your attention to the Eiffel Tower, the time has arrived for the wedding of the millennium!” 

Marinette and Adrien made their way to the designated meeting spot they’d set up with their group of friends, and soon the wedding was underway. Adrien whispered in Marinette’s ear very carefully, “I know I keep asking this, but are you _sure_ you’re ok with being down here and letting a mirage take our places up there?”

Marinette nodded, “My wedding was perfect,” she responded quietly. “Nothing, not even all this, could ever top it. Besides, it’s pretty fun to watch the superheroes for once, instead of being one.”

He nodded in agreement and located Juleka and Rose standing by Luka and his wife Catrine a few meters away. Just before the couple joined their friends, though, Adrien spotted a familiar blonde head and puffed out his chest. “Hey, Felix, good to see you here, cousin!”

Felix, who was prowling by a bench with his phone out recording the crowd, suddenly stiffened. “Adrien? Marinette?”

Marinette nodded enthusiastically, Adrien pulled her into his chest, and rested his chin on the crown of her head. “It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Marinette chirruped, “Paris’ supercouple, getting married at last!”

Felix gaped and stared at the two of them until Ladybug and Chat Noir started flying over the crowd. “You’re… you’re here. You’re not up there. How are you _here?_ ”

Adrien raised an eyebrow, “Oh, are you still going on about—”

“Don’t remind me,” Felix said, looking quite green. “You… you may have won this round, but… but…” He simply harrumphed and stomped off, shoving his phone back in his pocket angrily as he did so.

Marinette pounded Adrien’s fist quietly behind their backs. “We make an excellent couple,” she noted softly. 

He nodded in agreement, “The best.”

The wedding truly was beautiful. Adrien decided he’d have to do something anonymous and spectacular for Alya to thank her for the show. Ladybug was in her supersuit, but with a tiara and a lovely veil. Chat Noir slid down his staff from the top of the Eiffel tower to the bottom tier where the Mayor was set up with a podium to officiate. The cameras—broadcast to every phone and several large projection screens around the square—caught the look of jubilation on Ladybug’s face and the emotional tears on Chat Noir’s. The two exchanged the simple, heartfelt vows that Adrien and Marinette had supplied Alya with a few weeks prior. When the Mayor pronounced them husband and wife, the crowd went berserk. Everyone was taking pictures, cheering, chanting _“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”_

Adrien complied, and in the background, so did Ladybug and Chat Noir. The superheroes made a circuit of the Trocadero, waving to the adoring crowd, pausing to flirt or peck or otherwise feed the romantic fervor, before they both took a bite of a power-up and they flew up and away for their grand exit. Marinette and Adrien watched each other fondly as the crowd around them babbled their delight.

“That was _incredible!_ ”

“Amazing!”

“That was the sweetest wedding I’ve ever witnessed!”

“Where do you think they’ll go on their honeymoon?”

“Do you think they really got married this morning, like, in a legal ceremony without their masks?”

“It’s so romantic!”

“I can’t believe Chat finally got the girl! I’ve been rooting for him since day one!”

“Not me, I was always holding out hope that Ladybug would ditch him for me.”

“Ha, nice try.”

Adrien and Marinette just laughed as the crowd mulled around them, slowly dispersing. Eventually, the snippets of conversation they’d been listening to changed in topics and the party shifted from wedding to New Year’s Eve. Many people were heading home, but there were still enough friends and family in the surrounding area that Marinette and Adrien decided to stay for a while longer. Some peppy music started up, the vendors were doing good business, dancing commenced, and the atmosphere was lively and excited. The Agrestes stayed for several more hours, enjoying the celebration as the sun faded behind the horizon and the last few moments of the year ticked by. Shortly before midnight, they slipped away and headed back to their quiet, warm, beautiful apartment and went up to the rooftop terrace to wait until the fireworks started. Adrien kicked on their gas chiminea and Marinette pulled a thick blanket around them both as they curled up on their loveseat.

“What a year this has been,” Adrien noted with a smile.

She nodded. “Our wedding—our _real_ wedding, that is—”

“Not that I wouldn’t call today’s wedding not real, but yeah, it was nice to not be front and center for once.”

“Our honeymoon,” she added, “which really helped me figure out what life was going to be like, being married to you.”

He smiled, “You were worried, weren’t you. You were worried for a minute there.”

She shook her head and laughed, “I was never worried about being married to you. I didn’t want to be famous and rich and have to worry about all of that, though; I’ll admit it. I also didn’t like the idea of staff. Still don’t.”

“Fair enough,” he added. “But that’s not all this year has brought. I’m _so_ proud of you finishing your degree, sweetheart.”

She winked. “You say that every day.”

“I mean it every day.”

“But it makes me look bad because I don’t remember to compliment you on starting your doctorate,” she playfully whined.

“You could never look bad, _never._ You helped me get that position at the Sorbonne Institute, you have been my rock and my anchor and all those other positive metaphors. You’ve been so supportive, and I could not have done any of this without you.”

Marinette blushed and looked at her hands, “It’s only because I love you so very much.”

He scooted closer to her on their loveseat, “I love _you_ so very much.”

“So,” Marinette segwayed, “do you think next year could top this one?”

Adrien tapped his lips and frowned, “I dunno, it’s going to be _awfully_ hard to beat.”

Marinette leaned in and kissed him, then checked her watch. “Oh, it’s time!” The two whispered the last ten seconds of the year to each other, then quietly cheered “Happy New Year!” as the City of Lights erupted in fireworks and jubilation. They rung in the New Year traditionally—with lips locked in a fiery, passionate kiss.

When they finally came up for air, Marinette smiled coyly, “Ok, project make-this-year-even-better-than-last has officially commenced.”

Adrien raised his eyebrow, “Why do I sense a competition coming on?”

She shrugged, a wicked glint in her eye, “I have _no_ idea.” He laughed. “But I do know something that will beat all of last year put together.”

“Oh really?” he said, matching her adorable snark, “Whatchya got? Hit me with your best shot, I’d like to see you try!”

Marinette licked her lips, leaned in sensually, and brought his chin within millimeters of her lips. Adrien’s heart nearly stopped, like it always did when she seduced him like this. Her lashes fluttered, Adrien’s chest felt like it might explode with fireworks just like the ones popping off around them, and finally she whispered, “Brace yourself, Agreste. I’m pregnant.”

* * *

The End

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for reading, commenting, and sharing this fluffy adventure with me! It's always bittersweet finishing a story, but mostly sweet. Your friendship means the world, and drives me to write again and again. 
> 
> If you want to hang out with some fun writers and artists from the Miraculous Fandom, come check out the Discord server.  
> [Miraculous Fanworks Discord Server Invite](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)  
> Also, a huge, huge, HUGE hug and love and THANK YOU to my sister Scoobers, my Mom (a real life Sabine), and my best friend and beta LadyGorgeous for editing, giggling with me, and helping me come up with ideas. This is dedicated to you and couldn't have happened without your help. Love you all!


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